Does Life Really Begin at Forty?

(Photo by Anesh Debiky/Gallo Images/Getty Images)

I haven’t had any real trouble with my heel in quite some time, but since I started running, I am beginning to feel a feel a tinge of pain in my heel and/or the arch of my foot. And I fear that this might just be the beginning, again.

For a 50-year old man, I am rather proud of the fact that I am not in bad shape.

Increasingly, however, I am noticing that it is much easier to stay in shape than it is to get back into shape. And the longer you remain out of shape, the harder it is to get back in!

And with each passing day, I am feeling better than the day before.

But as I ran on the treadmill today and labored with breathing that used to be easy for me, I longed for the days when I was 40-years old, the days when I completed the Parkersburg Half-Marathon, averaging a 7:31-pace for each mile of the race.

 So, I have increasingly thought about the statement, “Life begins at forty.”

And thinking about the statement, I have reached a conclusion.

The statement must have originally been made by a 20-year old, who obviously didn’t know any better, or an 80-year old, who longed for those glorious days of yesteryear.

Life begins at forty—what a moron!

I’d love to say much more about the subject right now, but I gotta’ run!

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