Speed Limit 75


I suppose that if my life were defined by a traffic sign people might believe that “SLOW” would perfectly capture my current situation, but I suspect that maybe “SPEED LIMIT 75” is a more accurate description. I’ve yet to modulate my daily pace, and I don’t intend to do so until I am no longer able to zip around from one adventure to another. I continually thank the good Lord for my essentially good health and for the energy that keeps me going. I’m simply not ready to sit back and be a senior citizen yet. After all most of the folks vying for the presidency are my contemporaries or even a bit older. Seventy seems to be the new fifty and I’m plan to take full advantage of whatever time that I have to still be vibrant.

I was trying to plan a visit with one of my grandsons and I outlined all of the things that I had to do for the next several weeks. “So much for retirement,” was his response and I had to laugh at my busy schedule. I still teach mathematics to young people ranging in age from seven to sixteen years of age. I’ve been relearning concepts from Pre-Calculus that I haven’t used in so long that they may as well be brand new information. Somehow I’ve been able to keep the little gray cells in my brain operating without too much effort and it feels good to exercise my mind.

I try to close the activity circles on my Apple watch most days as well. I generally keep my rusty knees working in spite of the arthritis that has made doing so more challenging than it used to be. I always feel better after a brisk walk or time spend on weight machines. I hope to keep my body working at top speed as well as my mind even though I sometime see signs that both are slowing just a bit.

I keep a regular schedule that lasts from about six in the morning until eleven at night. I have always had a difficult time sitting still and that hasn’t changed as I have aged. If anything my need to stay active has only increased over time. I suppose that from a psychological standpoint I fear that if I give in to forgetful moments or bouts of pain in my joints that I will slowly erode into a state of disrepair.

There is still so much to see in the world. I pray that the Coronavirus won’t interfere with my travel plans for the next many months. I suppose that if I have one excruciating flaw in my personality it is a tendency to worry excessively. Anxiety has followed me for all of my life, a tendency that I came about honestly from my grandmother, Minnie Bell. If anything does me in it will be my propensity to worry myself into an excitable state of mind. For that reason I keep whirring about like the Energizer Bunny. The busier I am the less prone I am to begin considering scenarios that are unlikely to happen.

Spring is coming and with it my annual cleaning frenzy. I get my garden in tip top shape along with the inside of my home. This year I plan to repaint all of my outdoor furniture before the rust ruins it. I need to clean out closets and get things in order. We’ve been misplacing lots of items of late because everything got stirred around with the Christmas frenzy. It’s no doubt time to rid myself of items that I haven’t used in years as well. Each spring I promise to simplify but never quite go all the way as I should.

Scotland is calling me, but before that I want to take a trip to the mountains with my brothers and sisters-in-law. Somehow I never get enough of those majestic scenes, just as I require a quick visit to New Orleans at least once a year as well. There are places that stir my heart and keep my should happy. Visiting them is like filling a prescription to keep me healthy.

My mother used to urge me to slow down. My teachers complained that I was always tapping a foot or wriggling in my seat. My students laughed at the way I constantly moved around the classroom. I admit to being a big gooey ball of energy that is essentially unable to just sit quietly for long stretches of time. I long ago gave up attempting to be serene. I’ve tried meditating and I just can’t quiet my mind or my body enough to hear my own breathing or heartbeat.

A colleague once offered me an energy drink. I didn’t think I needed it but I was curious to see what it’s effect would be on me. I was soon feeling like a nervous cat. If I’d had claws I do believe that I might have been able to walk up the wall and hang upside down from the ceiling. I don’t need anything artificial to keep moving. Energy is my middle name.

Perhaps the day will come when “SLOW’ will finally be my mantra. I watched my dynamo aunts eventually spend more time sitting than moving around, but they were well into their nineties before that happened. I tend to believe that I still have many 75 miles per hour days ahead of me. I intend to take full advantage of them and be thankful that I still have the energy to zip through life.


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