When you are retired like I am, “hump” day pretty much loses all meaning and significance. Although as a member of the Wednesday walking group I do often spend some time and effort humping it up a mountain.
We did the big one yesterday but to his credit, our fearless leader Gunter didn’t make us climb the trail even he calls “Motherfucker”. The path we did take was plenty tough though. I hereby proclaim it will henceforth be known as “Nasty Bastard”.
Yeah, I was muttering to myself all the way up, but really the main reason I do the group hike is to see new places I wouldn’t explore alone and to push myself a bit harder than I do on my daily walks. Overcoming my inherent laziness and excuse-making is a good thing, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I’ve got some photos from the 8K hike to share, but first I want to post this one:
I was also astounded at just how fat I look in that picture. I mean, I’m still carrying around a beer belly, but all these miles I’ve walked since that day have taken their toll. And the photo also reminds me that I’ve lost so much more than weight. Friends like Gunny, James Stoy, and Bridget Werner are gone now. The wedding band on my finger represents the broken promises from the woman I expected to spend the rest of my life with. I guess in a perverted kind of way I did. That man I was back then, fat and happy, the dreams and hopes for the future, the house and everything in it, all gone forever. All that’s left is a dead man walking.
As is our custom, most of the group popped into Cheap Charlies after the hike for rehydration purposes. There was some kind of party going on and the group had quite a spread, including Lechon (roasted pig).
Over the hump and back again. Carry on!
One morning I woke up and I knew you were really gone
A new day, a new way, and new eyes to see the dawn
Go your way, I’ll go mine and carry on
The sky is clearing and the night has cried enough
The sun, he comes, the world to soften up
Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice but to carry on
The fortunes of fables are able to sing the song
Now witness the quickness with which we get along
To sing the blues you’ve got to live the dues and carry on
Carry on, love is coming, love is coming to us all
Dead man walking? I’d say you’re very much alive and kicking. Keep making the most of the present moment, my friend.
By the way, that horse looks as if it’s morphing into an alpaca.
Phds must have been done/should be done on the comparatively earlier mortality rates among expat males. What causes it? Don’t wish to besmirch your passed away pals but one cannot say that he looked younger than his years (if he is only 46 in that pic). But it’s not only self care. There’s a general lack of attention paid to the state of the aging body. Definitely one factor in the Philippines could be the absence of regular basic check ups.
Thanks, Kev. Yes, I’ve been reborn here in the Philippines. Sometimes I wonder if I could go back to my old life if I would be missing this one. “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone” and all that.
Dan, fair points but to be clear, my friends who have passed on all died in the USA. I do make it a point though to have an annual checkup here.