Getting old - with a bang and a whimper

I got old last week.   I should have seen it coming a few weeks ago when I got my hair cut and the lady asked me if I wanted my eyebrows trimmed.  After a brief and awkward pause on my end, I replied, "Well...um...okay...if you think so."  That should have been the first clue.

Then, I went kayaking with my friend Michael a little over a week ago to camp on an island in the James River.  When I say kayaking, it was basically getting from the bank a little ways down the river to the island, and then back to shore the next morning.  So do not envision an elaborate, strenuous journey down the river.  It was just a short and simple trek.  No big deal.  Except two days later, my back hurt. And hurts even today.  That was a sign that something was amiss.

The thing that pull the nail in the coffin was that I decided to grow my beard back out.  I do it every so often.  But this time, when I looked in the mirror last week, I noticed what looked like a white hair. A trick of the light I thought and dismissed it.  The next day, there it was again, and it had brought friends.  Being the kind of guy I am, I went through three phases.  The first was that I obsessed over it for a day or so, staring at the mirror with my chin thrust out, turning back and forth, running my hand through the stubble, trying to convince myself it was indeed only the bright summer light beaming into my bathroom that was causing the phenomena.

The next phase, which I was in until this morning, was avoidance.   I pretended the white was not there.   When I looked in the mirror, I tried my best to only look at the top half of my face.  Yes, I fixed the hair, trimmed the..ummm...nose hairs,  then, well....errr...trimmed the ear hairs and oh my dear Father in Heaven as I type this I realize You have been giving me some other signs all along!!!!!!!!!  I have simply been too vain to notice them.

So today, the third phase must have kicked in.   Acceptance.  The back strain is there.   The hairs need plucking and trimming in multiple, absurd places.   And the white is coming out.   There I have said it.  I hope to some day move on to the next logical phase, which would be embracing the change; however, I know myself too well and will probably cycle back through the obsession and avoidance phases a few more times.  I can always shave the beard and make the problem go away.

So, I got old last week and it came in both with a bang (as in bang, "in your face", literally) and a whimper (the sounds I made as reality set it.)