One of Albert Einstein's greatest insights was realizing that time is relative. It speeds up or slows down depending on how fast one thing is moving relative to something else.
As I get older, time seems to accelerate as my body slows down. My time is no longer infinite or limitless--like it was when I was young--it is not a commodity to squander. A lifetime of squandering is hard to change. But living my life, even the way I did it, has resulted in experiences that are of limitless value to me and usually boring to anyone around me.
It seems like just last week I posted to this blog but in reality it has been several years since I last posted. A lot has happened to me environmentally, physically, emotionally, and mentally since 2011. We now have eight grand children and one on the way: three girls and five boys. The expected baby is supposed to be a girl. All, of course, are special. And each are individually unique, with their own personalities, preferences, smiles, and temperaments. Three have their own bicycle helmets!
Physically I'm aging like all of us tend to do as we get older. Last December (on December 2, 2014) both knees were replaced. Two weeks before the surgery, the surgeon had me quit analgesics, especially Ibuprofen. My liver, after years of filtering these chemicals out, rejoiced, but I couldn't walk the round trip of thirty meters from the front door of our house to the mail box, without serious pain. It was amazing how much pain those little brown pills were able to mask. But even without chemical assistance, once I got on my bike, I was still able to go on fairly long rides. The day before the surgery I rode about fifteen miles through an oddly sunny, slightly chilly first day of December. On the day of my surgery (the day after) it snowed almost a foot in Salt Lake! I didn't ride again for almost four months but I did do hours of rehab, cursing both to myself and out loud the entire time. The first bike ride after was amazing!
How did my knees get so messed up? The answer is: years of running, hiking, skiing, jumping out of perfectly good airplanes, rock climbing, and falling off of an occasional bar stool. Having a couple of motorcycle wrecks didn't help and living an unforgiving wild and reckless first 45 years of my life just exacerbated the condition of my mind and body. But being in rehab, especially the inpatient rehab, gave me time to think about the changes I had been making prior to the surgery. My will to get back on my bicycle and my desire to continue to make emotional and mental changes drove me.
The rehab and my stubbornness fixed my knees and I have worked hard on my temper, my braggadocio, insecurity, and most of all my penchant for trying to fix everyone around me. This came from a realization that all of this behavior had resulted in losing friends, alienating some family members, appearing to be an unreliable narrator, and worst of all losing what little self-esteem all of the poor behavior seemed to give me. I no longer think for others, try to save them from themselves, nor do I point out their faults or make unsolicited recommendations! I have come to recognize my own limitations, foibles, strengths and weaknesses. Some of this introspection came from mental therapy, both individual and couples, but much of it, after I learned what to look for, came while riding my bicycle.
Riding my bicycle is my idea of a zen experience. It is a time when I can keep my mouth shut and mull things over. My senses sharpen breathing becomes regulated to the amount of caloric need, and I can find time to forgive myself and to build a different tool kit for living out the rest of my life. Plus I get to see lots of great things. Today for example, I saw rafts of Phalaropes on a salt march east of Palo Alto. I was riding a rental bicycle over the Dumbarton bridge. We are visiting my daughter, the OB-GYN, and her husband who is some sort of mystic for Goggle, and more importantly their five and a half month old daughter.
It was standing at the top of the crest of the bridge looking at down at San Francisco Bay beneath me thinking about the process of aging. Bicycling may not keep me young but it will help me live longer or if not, at least I will have a better quality of life. So this meditation led me to think that I should kick-start my blog. Having two artificial hips (2007?) and two new hips will improve my quality of life but it's my brain pushing my body to stay healthy that will keep me alive long enough to give my grandchildren good memories of a happy, if not eccentric Aguelo.
Getting old should not be memories of past conflict or regret of lost time but rather it should be filled with the laughter of grandchildren, the joy of sharing a bottle of great wine with good friends, and watching the miles unwinding beneath my bicycle tires.
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