When I used to study for exams in med school, I remember sitting in the library and I used to like listening to music. One band I really liked at the time (and still now) was Placebo. They had one song, “Every You Every Me” that I listened to on and on and on. In fact, one day I was studying in the library and I listened to that one song, on repeat, I think virtually the whole day. I was sitting at a desk, having to stop myself from shaking my legs from the energy. And I did study, I didn’t fail anything anyway.
On Sunday 12 September I was in a “fun run”. Now we all know what that means for anyone who actually likes to push themselves – pain. And by 11km, I was in some. There was a bunch of young guys, I reckon even still teenagers, and they had Hawaiian shirts on. They overtook me. They were coasting and I was pushing. Now, I started to listen to a song, not quite Placebo, but Ben Harper, a particular song, “Amen Omen”. And I got into a rhythm. And I caught up and overtook them and stayed in front – at least for a while. I know, “fun run”. But you know, gotta have a go, right?
The point I make is, when did I get old? Was it when I dislocated my right shoulder and couldn’t really serve properly in tennis? Was it when my hairline started receding and my nose hairs began to turn grey? Was it when I first felt betrayed and let down? Was it when people died around me?
No, I became old when I let myself.
Now, there are many virtues to growing old, approaching a sense of “wholeness”. For a man, perhaps getting in touch with the feminine components of oneself. Feelings, understanding. There are many virtues. Forgetting ego for me has been one. I ain’t no James Bond and I never will be – that’s fine. Reluctantly, I get it.
But to grow old and lose passion for life, well that’s a state of mind. And whether we like to admit it or not, to that degree, it’s a choice. It creeps up on us, writing ourselves off, slowly, day by day. Losing that “fire in the belly”.
My teenage son’s downstairs with a friend right now, shooting hoops. Every time I look at them, they’ve got a cheeky look, like they’ve been up to something I shouldn’t know about. I’m worried, but I marvel and appreciate their zest for life all the same. There seems to be so much of the world opening up for them.
Am I the same? I’m not sure. Could I be the same? Absolutely, as long as I maintain that state of mind, and don’t lose that glint.
Anyway, my daughter’s dragging me out for another run. Knee replacement – yip, maybe one day I’ll need one, but damn – for all the good times I’ve had running – it’ll be worth it.
Whether it’s music, running, cooking or whatever – never let go of what gives you a “glint” – and, whether it looks pretty or not – do it! Play hard. Forever.
