I have a birthday coming up and I’ll admit, it’s one of the first ones where I feel, well, old. As my son would say, “It’s because you are old, dad.” I guess it is because time is flying so quickly now. I don’t know.
I had cancer at 33. I’ve always joked that was my mid-life crisis. It rocked my freaking world and somedays, still does. My career was shaken up in my early 40’s after being at near the top of my profession. I guess that was another mid-life crisis. Lord knows it caused a crisis. But as traditional mid-life crises go, I really haven’t had one. I’ve never had a desire for a red sports car and I am smart enough to realize that I out-kicked my coverage when I married Amy — and I know she’d kill me if I did anything too stupid. Honestly, I’m pretty happy with my life.
So this birthday, I’ll eat cake, open presents and soak in the love of my family. I’ll put up with old jokes. I’ll see my face aging in the mirror and pluck freaky gray hairs. My knees and shoulder will ache. But then I’ll go out and kick 30-year-old’s butts in the gym. I’ll wear jeans I could have worn when I was 16 and go run 10 miles. I’ll celebrate getting to do what I love and get paid for it. I’ll look at my life for what it is — a miracle. And I’ll smile.
Numbers on a calendar don’t mean squat to me. I’m as my football coach used to say, “Just glad to be here,” — even if I do feel little old.