I’m away working at the moment… the lovely Reading, thanks very much for asking.
It’s been pretty good. The work is interesting (taking barometer readings of business culture through group and and one to one meetings), the weather has been warm and my diet hasn’t been affected too much.
One issue is that this was a fairly late booking and the only place I could get into was the Ibis. The advantage is that it’s just round the corner from the office, the disadvantage is that it’s… well, an Ibis.
I’m on the 11th floor and given that I’m on a health kick I decided to shun the lift and run up the stairs.
It was around the 8th floor that I suddenly realised that I’m no longer 25… or indeed 35. At the grand old age of 45 sprinting up stairs is no longer an option. A light jog is all that I managed
This got me thinking a little bit and so, purely as a mental exercise, I thought I’d compile a list of the 10 things I can no longer do now that I’m in my mid forties. And here it is.
- Sprint up 11 flights of stairs*
- Play rugby (not that I ever did), American Football (which I did), 1st team hockey or for Manchester United
- Drink 10 pints of lager (once again, I never could; 3 was just about my maximum) and play any of the sports mentioned in point 2 the next day
- Not worry about things too much ‘cos everything will be okay in the end
And that’s where my list ran out. Sure I’ll never be a brain surgeon but that’s nothing to do with age per se, more aptitude and my reaction to anything gruesome… which I won’t bore you with here but is highly amusing to people around me.
And actually the only one I’m really worried about (ironically) is number 4. I’ve never really been a big fan of conflict, I’m not very good at it, but as I’ve grown… er… more mature in years I’ve learned how to deal with it and I’m much more direct than I used to be.
But I also seemed to have developed an incredible ability to see all the consequences of any decision… like pathways running off in different directions to different conclusions.
This sounds great as I’m writing it but I have to be careful; I mustn’t let concerns about what might happen stop me doing stuff. I’d much rather I was 18 again and go for the tackle on the huge Linebacker rumbling towards me without considering the 12 hours in hospital with a separated shoulder…
Or would I?
*I was in Reading all week and by the end of the week I was able to sprint up 11 flights of stairs, no bother, so this whole blog was a waste of time!