Day whatever: 50 miles and counting

Just passed the 50-mile mark on my 500-mile exercise-bicycle "trip." Look out, Oneonta, here I come!

Make that 24 miles

Slowly but surely pedaling my way to Maine without leaving the front porch. But blogging, well, I seem to have less time for this than I do for taking care of myself. Will post now and again as my 60th birthday approaches. Too busy to think about it much these days.

Day 185: Nine miles and counting

For most of my nearly 60 years, I've had difficulty finishing what I started. So I suppose it was a bit impulsive of me to decide to clock 500 miles on my stationary bike. Still, I think I might actually keep this promise to myself.

After three sessions on the bike, I'm closing in on 10 miles. That might not sound like much, but after a sedentary winter it's real progress. I still have 490 miles to go, but no one's keeping score except me. All in good time.

Lately, as I find myself slipping into old bad habits, I think of my upcoming 60th birthday and wonder: Geez, Mar, how much longer are you going to do THAT?

My 60th birthday is a good opportunity to rethink my bad habits and make another promise to myself: Not much longer.

Day 181: 3 miles and counting

Managed to start my 500-mile exercise bike-athon today. Lasted 3 miles.
Three down, 497 to go.
I need a nap.

Day 180: On the road, on the porch

I came up with an idea that I plan to act on -- any minute now. I'm going to bicycle to Maine. And I'm going to do it without leaving my front porch.

That's where I put the stationary bicycle awhile back because it's too noisy and the den too crowded.

I figure if I can ride it a mile a day, I can reach my goal sometime in September -- of 2011. It's 500 miles from my house to my sister-in-law's near the Maine coast, and while the scenery won't change as I peddle, I'm hoping my health will -- for the better.

The "boys" just came in for lunch. I'll write more once I've ridden the first mile or two.

Day 170: Age, shmage

I spent some time a few weeks ago in the company of relatives, the vast majority of whom are older than I am. I had a blast -- lots of laughter, good food and a few good games of Scrabble.

Looking around me, realizing I was the "baby" in the group, left me wondering why I'm so hung up on the thought of turning 60. OK, the wrinkles and the spare tire are still a bummer, but it's not as if turning 60 means life will suddenly become, well, limited.

I think I'm finally beginning to believe that. I even find myself glancing at course descriptions for online classes.

Day 131: Atta girl, Bonnie

I heard a brief preview of an NPR program featuring singer Bonnie Raitt, in which the announcer mentioned that she is turning 60. Then it cut to a sound bite from Raitt herself.

In it, she said that one of the great things about this "mountain-top" experience is that there's a good chance you know yourself pretty well by this age -- so well, in fact, that what other people think of you shouldn't matter much anymore.

Amen.

Day 124: Still pushing

My department at the university held a lunch-hour meeting the other day. I raised a question about staffing needs and happened to mention that I was "pushing 60." Someone seated across the table whispered, as if in disbelief, "Sixty?"

Cool.

Day 116: Say what?

I just finished grading a pile of papers -- stories written by my intro-level journalism class. In one of them, a novice writer refers to a 54-year-old man as "elderly." I tried to be gentle as I suggested that she reconsider labeling someone younger than her instructor as a geezer.

A former publisher at the newspaper I once called home stormed out of his office one day after a reporter referred to someone who was the same age as the publisher -- 60 -- as elderly. "I am not elderly!" the publisher roared. When publishers roar, people tend to pay attention.

All of this has me thinking about how old 59 sounded to me when I was 19, or even 29. But the closer I got to this age, the younger it seemed.

There's a great line in the movie "Fried Green Tomatoes." Kathy Bates' character, speaking to her new friend -- played by the late, great Jessica Tandy -- says, "I'm too old to be young and too young to be old."

Precisely.

I'm not ready to be elderly. But honestly, I wouldn't want to be 20 again, either. (OK, I wouldn't mind FEELING 20 again ...)

Day 111: Highlights and lowlights

There's a photo of a woman in a magazine I picked up recently. She appears to be about my height, thinner but not thin, and her hair is long and silvery gray. "This is what 60 looks like," the headline says.

Well, maybe.

Thinner would be nice, sure. But 111 days into my 60th year I still have hair that is best described as brown -- not blonde, not brunette, just brown. Yes, the gray hairs are popping up with increasing frequency, but for reasons I can't figure out (both of my parents were quite gray by the time they reached 60) they are still in the minority.

Still, the last few times I've gone to a beauty parlor the hairdresser couldn't resist suggesting ways to cover my gray hairs. One went into an elaborate explanation of the highlights she'd introduce and something else I didn't quite grasp about making my natural color look even more natural.

Huh?

I asked her how often this whole arrangement would need to be updated so I wouldn't have "root" issues.

"Every six weeks," she said.

I respectfully declined.

I shoulda told her, "Hey, this is what almost 60 is SUPPOSED to look like."

Day 105: Try it, you'll like it

Not one to take someone else's word for it -- at least, not when it comes to ice cream -- I decided to try Breyer's fat-free creamy vanilla topped with Hershey's chocolate syrup and fat-free Reddi Whip.

Gotta hand it to you, Arlene, this is good stuff. Who knew that fat-free ice cream had evolved into something that tasted like the real deal? Where have they been hiding this stuff? (Probably next to the uber-fat chocolate truffle ...)

With Lent a little more than a week away, though, I am not going to let this fat-free combo become a habit. I am contemplating giving up ice cream and chocolate in all forms, along with bottled frappucinos. I figure this would be good not only for my cholesterol, but also for my soul. Maybe. A little self-denial never hurt anyone, right?

Besides, I just heard that someone close to my age had to have surgery on one of his carotid arteries because it was 90 percent blocked. The other was completely blocked. He was headed for a stroke and didn't even know it. Sheesh.

Maybe I'll give up meat and cheese, while I'm at it.

Day 98: Time traveling

We were on our way home from the day care center, my grandson and I. The sky had turned a steely gray, and huge fluffy snowflakes had begun to pelt the windshield. In that brief moment, the drab landscape was transformed.

Staring at the sky, I was transported to a place I knew well. The sky that day, some 50 years ago, was a similar shade of gray. I was in my bed, home sick for the day, sitting up and getting ready to color in a coloring book.

I could see the sky -- and the snow -- from my bed, and what I remember most about that moment is that everything seemed just right. The crayons still had their sharp tips. The coloring book had lots of fresh pages waiting to be colored in. And it was snowing, with the deep gray sky promising lots more to come.

Back to January 2010. The snow squall went as quickly as it had come, leaving barely a dusting on the pavement. The sun was getting close to the horizon, and the little boy in the car seat behind me had grown quiet as he gazed out the window. Maybe he was thinking about the snow, or maybe he was planning what he would do when he got home.

And maybe someday, years from now, a snow squall and a steely gray sky will transport him back in time to this moment with me and a time when life seemed, in that one moment, just right.

Day 86: Thou shalt not covet

I was standing in line at the grocery store today when two women who looked to be well into their 50s got in line behind me. The first thing they put on the conveyor belt was some chocolate almond ice cream, followed quickly by two 12-packs of beer and some serious-looking red meat.

I, with my skyrocketing cholesterol, could care less about the beer. I could even pass up the red meat. But the ice cream -- well, that's another story.

I'd love a dish of chocolate ice cream right now, but I don't dare. I wondered as I waited in line if those two women were blessed, as some of my siblings are, with naturally low cholesterol. Or maybe the women had long since decided to quit worrying about the impact their dietary habits were having on their health.

All of which left me wondering if there will ever come a time when I can eat what I want to eat -- say, when I'm pushing 90.

Maybe in 30 years they'll have found a way to make nonfat ice cream taste like the real deal.

Day 73: Time is not on my side

There's nothing like a trip home to the place where you were born and raised to remind you that time marches on. And on.

At a church in Oberlin, Ohio, on the Sunday after Christmas, I happened to see a woman I've known since I was 5 or 6. In fact, we were in school together straight through high school.

The thing is, when I first saw her -- and had not yet recognized her -- I assumed she was much older than me. But then, I've been assuming most people I are older than I am for a very long time. I really need to look in the mirror more often.

Spending time with my four older brothers was the other big reminder that time is marching relentlessly on. Of the five of us, my oldest brother and I have the fewest health problems. (But then, we're also the only two who didn't smoke.) Seeing my other brothers cough, wheeze and move slowly so as not to aggravate their aching joints was a little depressing. I kept telling myself I won't be like that in five or 10 years.

Meanwhile, I broke out the mini-trampoline yesterday and have been watching my saturated fats. Which I guess means that I've finally decided to make some changes instead of sitting back and taking whatever the passage of time throws at me.