Losing It
The dancer slows her frantic pace
In pain and desperation,
Her aching limbs and downcast face
Aglow with perspiration
Stiff as wire, her lungs on fire,
With just the briefest pause
The flooding through her memory,
The echoes of old applause.
She limps across the floor
And closes her bedroom door...
The writer stares with glassy eyes
Defies the empty page
His beard is white, his face is lined
And streaked with tears of rage.
Thirty years ago, how the words would flow
With passion and precision,
But now his mind is dark and dulled
By sickness and indecision
And he stares out the kitchen door
Where the sun will rise no more...
Some are born to move the world
To live their fantasies
But most of us just dream about
The things we'd like to be
Sadder still to watch it die
Than never to have known it
For you, the blind who once could see
The bell tolls for thee...
--Neal Peart (Rush)
I've never been one to appreciate lyrics. Sometimes, I can hear the lyrics and sing along, but I almost never
feel the lyrics. "Losing It" was written and performed by the Canadian progressive rock band Rush in 1982 on the
Signals album. And yes I had the
album (as opposed to CD).
As the years have passed, I never forgot the lyrics, that is, the lyrics were always in the back of my mind. This past Saturday, May 14, 2011, I turned 50 years old, and now I really
feel the lyrics.
There was a time, less than a decade ago, when I truly was one of the world's best at what I do. I was developing leading edge technologies, and I stood before audiences of tens to hundreds enlightening them. And they applauded.
It's not sad to turn 50. It's really not. But, it is sad to see and feel ability slowly fade away. That I feel every day when I start to pick up a pencil or program something "new." I agree with Neal in that it's "sadder still to watch it die than never to have known it." In other words, there is still applause, but it's only polite applause, and sometimes I think it's applause for what I
did as opposed to what I'm now
doing.
Enough of that old shit. Yesterday, I realized that now I'm a
Grand Master.
No, that's not what Deborah calls me after a night out.
I'm officially a clydesdale Grand Master, which means that when I run the half marathon in Estes Park on June 12, I'll be in the 50-59 age group. Not that it really makes any difference, but I will be wearing a t-shirt with the following on front...
and on the back...
This week I completed the following...
Monday - 4.54 mile run
Tuesday - Cross train - Stair climber & weights
Wednesday - Rain and rest
Thursday - Rain 6.52 mile treadmill run
Friday - Rest
Saturday - Turned 50 and celebrated with Deborah
Sunday - Turned 50 Saturday and celebrated with family
No chart this week because I canned my first 50 year old long run. Next week, I'll post a 50 year old clydesdale 10 mile run chart.
