At work today, the team did the usual thing when a member has a birthday.
Early in the arvo, I was on the phone talking shop when the departmental EA carried the cake to the area and asked everyone to crowd around. I ended my phone call, braved the awkwardness, thanked everyone and then recounted to a couple of colleagues the tragic fact that I am turning 44 in 3 days’ time.
The fact that I thoroughly enjoyed the tiramisu cake on offer was testament to my age. 10 years ago I would have baulked at being so decadent. A piece of tiramisu cake is likely to sat my 10k time a good minute back, or I would have felt less than cruising. These days, I hardly crack 8k on the treadmill and I cannot remember the last time I was on the road. My routine now centres mainly on a less destructive machine – that of a cross trainer. The elliptical contraption that makes you bob up and down while you wring your arms may still work up a sweat (my shirt is still more or less soaked after 45 minutes) but it is no where near the sort of work rate one generates from a 45 minute run at 12k/hr pace. I have a younger colleague who does his 10k in under 40 minutes so even though that puts him on a different planet, it cant help but make me feel every minute of my age.
Actually everyone in the department is younger than me which in itself can be pretty depressing.
But you know what? One can only be grateful for what one has. 44 can be a real treat.
Ante 