Getting Old.

 I awoke this morning and sat down at my computer. I opened my music and decided what I

 would listen to this morning.  I have been listening to some of the blasts from the past so today I determined I would find something new, or at least something I had not listened to for some time. Something that would not flood me with memories and make me very aware of the passage of time. That comes soon enough each day when I stand before the mirror razor in hand and meet my dear old friend. 

Just before I got the music started I heard the sound of somebody passing my window. A runner, rather heavy of foot, somebody who has moved into one of the houses that were up for sale. I instantly found myself taken back to those days when the first thing I did every day was put on my running gear and go out and run ten miles. 

 Surely I cannot be getting old? Surely I am not past it? 

This reminded me of the story of the woman who refused to accept she was looking older. 

She tells the story of the time she was sitting in the waiting room of her new dentist.  She was reading the diplomas and degree awards on the wall where she saw the full name of the dentist.

She remembered a tall, handsome, dark haired boy with the same name who had been in her class at school some 30 years prior. Could this be the same boy, the boy she had had a secret crush on?

The dentist came into the waiting room to call her into the surgery. She quickly discarded the thought that this was the boy from her class. This balding grey haired man with the deeply lined face was way too old to have been her classmate.

After he had examined her teeth and she was able to speak she asked him, "Did you go Queen Anne High School?"

"Yes, I did," he gleamed with pride.

"When did you leave ?" she asked.

He answered, "In 1959. Why do you ask that?"

"You were in my class!" she exclaimed.

He looked at her closely. Then, that ugly, old, balding, wrinkled, fat, grey haired man asked,  "What did you teach?"

Before we judge another we should always first look to ourselves.  Have a good day, I will leave the running shoes in the cupboard and go and put on my cycle gear and pretend I am in the Tour De France.