Who Knew Approaching The Half-Century Mark Means You Are Almost Middle-Aged?
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Say it ain’t so!
Tis the season between seasons, meaning the ups and downs of Mississippi weather we experience in late winter before my favorite time of the year, spring, officially arrives. This is the time to get some chores done before the crappie start biting and the turkeys are gobbling. Last weekend seemed like the first in a long, long time without rain and I had some downed trees in the pasture, perfect for firewood. It was also time to clean out some trails in the woods, a clean ridge road is much quieter for slipping during turkey season.
Last weekend’s itinerary also includes a little tractor and implement maintenance (translation – keeping the old junk going.) I think it was several hours running a chainsaw that got me, but I did split a little firewood too. Long story short, it took me two whole days to recover.
Surely I am not officially “middle-aged,” say it ain’t so.
June will mark my 49th birthday, so 50 is still a “ways” off. And I don’t feel like I am almost 50 unless there is some serious manual labor involved.
Then I figured it out, apparently my memory isn’t as sharp is it used to be. I always get a little soft during the winter months, the short days mean little outdoor activity after work during the week. Sitting in a deer stand on weekends isn’t exactly exercise unless you pull the trigger, and I have become more selective about that. I like to blame that on acquired wisdom and not age.
If history repeats itself, I will be as good as new in a couple of months. I checked my health app on my iPhone and during the first five days of turkey season last year, March 15 – 19, I walked a total of 20.7 miles. Those weren’t walking track miles either, that is up and down hills and hollows and across creeks. Those miles also included toting plenty of turkey hunting plunder – a shotgun, vest, decoys, upteen calls and a few packs of nabs left over from the previous season.
I remember huffing and puffing those first few days (and weeks). By early May, when I went to Missouri chasing those gobblers, the foothills of the Ozark Mountains weren’t a problem. I also remember that when turkey season is finally over, the honey-do list is alphabetized and prioritized (it’s a shame I can’t afford a turkey hunting trip up north where a few states’ seasons extend almost until June).
Back to that list, the crappie are still biting doesn’t typically do the trick and a little elbow grease will be in order to catch up around the house. I typically work a little gardening in too, but after last year’s drought minimized the efforts of my “green thumb,” I swore I was done with that. If you do the math, it has to be a lot cheaper to buy produce at the farmer’s market!
The take-away, 50 is still on the young side of middle-aged. Hopefully with a little Just for Men hair coloring, I can look the part for a few more years. Better strike that, I tried it last year on my beard and gave up. Somehow it just doesn’t look right, a nice, jet-black beard appears from nowhere after years of a salt-and-pepper look before it all went white.
At least the hair on my head is (mostly) hanging on and hasn’t turned too gray. At least not unless I am in the sunlight and my wife is nice enough to point out all the gray coming in. That gets me to thinking, the crappie better not be still be biting in May, or I just may forget about the honey-do list that is a coming.
