If You're Only As Old As You Feel, I Must Be 91 Today

Yes, I said it. Today I feel old.

I've partied like a rockstar, put my hands in the ayer, and ridden that highway of life all night long.

In fact, that was just last weekend. And boy did I feel it today!

Mondays always come too soon, but today arrived several hours short of a weekend's worth of rest. I totally enjoyed my two days off - more so even than I normally do which is a record difficult to surpass. But as I peeled my eyelids open long before the sun peeked above the horizon, I asked myself a simple question.

Was it really worth it?

I must consider that for most of my adult years I was far less than a party animal. Oh, who am I kidding?! I'm not one now, but I have my share of excitement... some might say more than my share even. Since I don't kiss and tell, only the lucky know the truth of the matter.

Thing is this weekend was supposed to be a relaxing one initially. I'd considered a camping trip with the family, but we took a wayward turn to rainy weather last week and I was once again reminded of the tentative nature of predicting such things and thus ultimately decided against it. Then I thought to make plans to hang out with a couple friends Friday evening. Nothing more, nothing less.

Till those plans fell through...

All of sudden the only thing on my calendar was our final regular season hockey game Sunday afternoon which seemed like the end of the weekend to me, and here I was on Thursday night with for the first time in ages no plans for Friday and Saturday.

I had already given David the go ahead to have the night off from me - I tend to be generous like that from time to time. Ha! But I became at odds rather quickly with the fact that I was going to be sitting at home  - so I dusted off my social butterfly wings and got busy.

I rallied some new friends overnight and set up a date for wings and drinks at a sports bar Friday evening, not making it home till long after David had fallen asleep. Being in my 40s now, I continue to think of myself generally as quite youthful, so in my exuberance my new friendship was forged with a couple of 20-somethings who were not so easy to keep up with until the wee hours of the morning. (R&K, If you're reading this, that last part is purely fiction - rock on!)

Okay, okay. You can stop counting the grey strands that are mounting along the part in my hair. Your calculations are null anyway, considering I plucked a number of them before I went out Friday night.

I grabbed a few hours of Zs after creeping as quietly into bed as possible, then jumped up bright and early to head out shopping. Making contact fortuitously with friends not seen in ages, we headed for an early dinner north of the Metroplex, followed by an impromptu away game that night, and finally leading up to some last-minute partying.

I did make it to sleep before the sun broke the next morning... barely.

By the time that Sunday afternoon game rolled around, I was as exhausted pre-game as the players were afterwards. 

I felt like I was 40 again! (Male translation: I felt like I was 19 again!)

I was loving the idea of being one of those people who has to get back to work to recover from the weekend... until the reality of a 6:00 am alarm hit me. Not literally of course - but it sure as hell felt like it. While my eyes were partially swollen shut, I was beating on the wall of my bathroom (which backs up to my teenager's bedroom) hoping I could bang my son awake long enough to fix me some coffee.

Thankfully, he was still in suck-up mode from his most recent grounding, so I got the enthusiastic "Sure!" that resounded more like one experiences when they're hungover than when in my case they are just sleep deprived. I won't say alcohol didn't play its part in the weekend festivities - just that I didn't indulge that last day.

Well, except for that one frozen peach daiquiri - but who's counting?!

Anyway, I began the day slowly as my house-bound server continued to refill my coffee cup at about 30-minute intervals. I fought the urge to nap, though I think adults should all siesta everyday even when not under the dire circumstance of not having acted one's age the prior few days. By noon I had a sense of humor again, but I hadn't been very productive with work.

I am clinging to the hope that much like how it takes longer for wounds to heal as we get older, that by tomorrow I will be my normal professional self again. You'd be amazed at how much less tolerant it is possible for me to be when I'm not well rested.

Undoubtedly there is a lesson in there somewhere, but unfortunately I didn't learn it. Point in case, I already have plans for two nights this week and this coming weekend is packed full.

I don't want to be a teenager again - but if I've got a 19 year old's energy and stamina at 41, I'm gonna use every ounce of it at every opportunity.

I can handle being a death-warmed-over-hit-by-a-truck-can't-hold-my-eyes-open 91 year old the following day. I can rest when I die - at least that's the theory.