Every morning I go for a walk, for health reasons and to have some time to listen to audiobooks or podcasts. Also, I’ll admit, to stay away from the mess of trying to get kids to school on time.
Over the years, I have become familiar with the people who go out to walk the dog, run, or walk at the same hour.
We’ve hardly exchanged words beyond “good morning” but I’ve become a bit attached to them anyway. A small catalogue includes: the bald man who runs at a fast pace and just doesn’t age; the blond woman who runs and shows some wrinkles but is still in great shape; the lady with the hat and sunglasses; the guy who walks his old dog but carries a dog-cart in case the aging animal fails to walk back; the three ladies who walk their dog together.
It seems odd to become attached to people you haven’t even talked to, but still, I haven’t seen the lady with the hat in a while, and she didn’t look great last I saw her. I hope she’s ok. The bald man had also disappeared for a while, but he’s back, and he still looks the same age as the first time I saw him a few years ago. I’m pretty sure running makes you immortal.
But today, I met the guy with the old dog, and I was taken by a sudden sadness, thinking of when the dog may die. I imagined a whole life for the man and his quadrupedal friend, of going through good and bad times, and the man still takes care to walk the dog, even tho it’s been years since the dog has ran after a tennis ball, and it can barely lift a leg to pee now. And then sometimes soon the dog will die, and the man will maybe take a walk alone, or maybe just sit in an armchair after breakfast, and kill time.
This month I turned 45, which, my friends make me notice, is interesting because 45*45=2025. They also made me notice I’m now closer to 50, then I am to 40. I’m not exactly sure when middle age starts or ends, but I think I’m firmly in it.
Possibly this means I’ll get a divorce and a Porsche. But to be honest, my wife is still far more attractive than I ever was, and I don’t like cars very much. I guess a mid-life crisis can entail a variety of things, and perhaps noticing you’re getting old is the first step.
Cause you see, Dear Reader, I just noticed today that almost everyone on my morning walk is old, for some value of old. There’s a couple folks in their 20s or 30s, but I think almost everyone is above 50 and 60.
“It’s so odd, everyone is old but me!” – I thought to myself, before noticing my mistake. I feel I’ve been old for a long time, even when I was younger. I also feel still childish, even as I grow older. Maybe people don’t really change with age.
I’m at a point in life where I’ve reached most of what I looked forward to. I’ve got a family, a job, a home. I never cared much for career or fame, so I don’t feel a need to struggle to become CEO of the World™.
I got bored a lot as a kid, so I learned to be entertained with little, I feel I could spend the next few years just playing silly games, watching TV and reading. I look forward to seeing the kids age, and I hope to see some more babies among family and friends. Some more traveling too.
Perhaps this is what a mid-life crisis looks like. If that’s the case, I think I’m fine with it.
Or perhaps, it’s just the end of summer, and the sight of an old dog.