How old is too old?
I think lately I’ve been feeling my mortality. An underlying anxiety about the future and my place in it. Concerns of taking care of aging parents and my wife. Of course the political polarization since the 2000 election hasn’t helped much. Now we have rising Fed interest rates, simply out of control spending, rampant inflation, border crises, politicizing the DoJ to pursue political enemies, and a POTUS with dementia who got lost three times on stage last week. But this week, I think this feeling was brought to the foreground by the death of an acquaintance I’d only met once.
Early in the double-00s, I began running again. To supplement this I joined an online running forum hosted by the venerable “Runner’s World” magazine. Several years later this group moved to a private server, which is now defunct. I got to know a number of members in person and have made some friends there. It was a pretty tight knit community.
One of the members, Tim O’Brien, I met at a trail race in Georgia. The Twisted Ankle, which was organized by Becky Finger as a fundraiser for The Sloppy Floyd State Park. The first year was 2005 and only a handful attended. I think I met Tim in 2010, when we shared a cabin. Didn’t get to know him well that weekend, but over the years through Facebook, we became somewhat well acquainted.
Tim was, to my reckoning, a fairly soft spoken man. Dedicated to his wife and children. And he was a dedicated runner. Hard core, any weather. He was also a semi-competitive runner at Boston. Online he was kind and encouraging. He’d had some tragedy in his life. His wife committed suicide a number of years ago. He married a young widow who he met through a widow/widower support group and ended up with five children (three his and two step).
I went looking for Tim on Facebook a couple weeks ago, I don’t remember why. It was shocking to find his obituary. Last November, either during or right after a race, Tim had a heart attack and died immediately. He was only 50 years old, rather unusual for a man of his athletic ability and age. I will not speculate as to the cause of the heart attack, vis-a-vis vaccinations, that is not my purpose here.
Tim was seven years younger than me. I guess today, I’m thinking of a few people I’ve known from high school who have passed. Steve Jay, 54, cancer. Tony Luyet, 39, aneurysm. Larry Schlesselman, (47), suicide. Terry Borman (19), motorcycle. All younger than me, though the same age at death.
Perhaps what is bothering me is a loss of a sense of purpose. I think I used to have one, but it seems to have been lost by the wayside and I do not recall what it was. I used to have somewhat of an academic bent, but that seems to have gone. What am I doing with my life and where should I go on from here? (Cue the BtVS musical). I have given thought to another advanced degree (probably history) but the ROI is not there at my age. I’ve wanted a small observatory, perhaps to make some small contribution, but that will require somewhere with fewer lights. I’ve thought of some English classes at the local university and possibly trying my hand at some writing.
I joined the Writer Dojo (a FB group), which I thought would be for aspiring writers of various types. But it seems everyone is publishing or has published a half dozen books, minimum. I’m not certain that is for me. And then, what would I write? Have I had appropriate experiences to weave into a believable story? Have I had a life worth living? Well, yes, but is it one to create a fake life to write about?
Perhaps also driving these musings…I had a minor surgery today. Finally got a deviated septum repaired in the hopes of being able to more easily breathe. Vicodin for pain. The blood is seeping from my nostrils as much as the words are flowing. Is it the meds? Wasn’t Hemingway a lush? Is that the key?
