I am old.

No,

not “getting older”.

Old!

And you will be also,

quicker than you would ever

expect.

And around that time

you’ll start to detect

certain changes that are,

(sorry, my young friends)

inevitable.

Sure,

that 6-rep-set

of a 300 pound bench press

feels so-ooo good!

Like the last push before

your penis explodes

into a fertile fountain of sperm.

That 10K sprint

at the end of your final

twenty-mile

-pre-marathon-training-run

feels like a wondrous OOOmmmmmm

of deep meditation on the nature of Spirit

sitting lotus style in the middle of the Pine Barrons….

But,

later,

remember.

There will come a moment when

just standing up is as gratifying

as “getting up”

and the view from the top

of a single flight of stairs

is as satisfying as the Finish Line

at the top of the Iwo Jima Monument hill,

squads of Marines shouting

Hoo-Ra for your victory

and the medic yelling, “Great job, Sir”

as she wraps you in shiny tin blanket

and hands you a ribboned medallion stamped

MARINE MARATHON FINISHER.

An old man warned me long ago.

He said “Walk, young man. Walk”

I didn’t and you won’t either.

So,

know there are no disclaimers in fitness books,

no invitations from knee surgeons

to sign up early for time under his scalpel,

no Nike ads with pictures

of crushed lumbar disks.

Know the cost.

Be ready to pay the bill.

And don’t say

I never warned you to

(at least now and then)

just sit still.