These days, when I look at myself in the mirror I see
someone I regularly saw on television eons ago: Droopy Dog. Before you get me
wrong, this piece is not by any means an essay on self flagellation nor an attempt
to elevate false humility. There are just more lines on my face now the region right below my nose mimics Droopy’s.
I use the mirror to check if I needed a haircut and never went
past below the hairline. At age 55 one knows what to expect. However, I
heard some talk that I lost weight and wanted to know what it is they see. So I
began exploring below the hairline. I did lose weight.
It was not due to exercise or having too much of it. My
biking has actually taken a pause these past few months. No, not severe lethargy but a matter of who stays with Carmella while I ride. And though the
bike went through some serious gear train upgrade, the rider remained sedentary.
There is good news, though. Within the next few days
Patricia will start working from home. The little sister will now have the big
sister to watch over her while their dad goes away for a few hours of self
indulgence. Someone up there loves me.
Yes, the loss in weight has nothing to do with biking. My
annual physical exam indicates, on average, everything as normal.
Well, there is still the issue of arrhythmia, anemia and spondylosis but are all
under control the doctors never considered them serious. For a while, the look of the
man in the mirror caused some concern.
Concern, however, can also be a springboard of gratitude if one chooses. That I can still do laps inside my favorite trails, join my nephew and
niece on out of town mountain biking trips, in spite of the worry cloud hovering
over my head are reasons to thank my Creator for this life I celebrate. I may
run out of breath quite quickly now and my heartbeat I hear much louder but these
I decided will be my motives for jubilation. I am alive and savoring life. Nothing
beats that.
Not even if each morning I see a reflection of Droopy Dog on
the mirror.
