You know when you’re getting old when just after your birthday those lovely little pension envelopes appear and they contain an extra booklet. I can now apply for free advice… I’ve just put all my pensions into a calculator. Sadly it says I can’t retire immediately. What’s worse is I currently can’t retire when I actually want to. They may not be true, but with my current ‘burn rate’ it’s certainly not sustainable. But alas, I’ll reevaluate it for the next five years. It will become a regular feature like filling out my tax return on New Years Day.
Don’t think I’d want to retire at the moment anyway, or even in five years for that matter, I think I’d just become a bit bored. But the day will come when I get up and think I can no longer walk forty odd miles just powered off a chicken sandwich and a bottle of coke.
You build an audience. That audience has expectations. Sometimes it’s fun to be a Kardashian in the world of ‘The only way is Essex’. Just saying.
So the time came where I actually reached fifty. I’m as surprised as you are. I can officially no longer leave a good looking corpse, although I somehow seemed determined to leave one sooner rather than later.
So what now?
Some things are coming to an end, mortgage payments, life insurance, sanity. Stability is almost all but certain, I’m not planning on being a miserable ninety year old, where the only thing I have to look forward to is getting through the night without pissing myself. Do I want another relationship? No, I really don’t think so. Been there, done that, have the paperwork. I no longer have the spare wardrobe space to support it. I’m quite happy vanishing a couple of times a year to service various needs. You get to meet lots of new people and indeed some of them turn into friends. I do get the feeling though that I’ve hit some kind of rut that I need to break out of a bit. I’ve always had the gym and that gives me continuity, but there are other things that I feel I should change.
For the first time in a long time (probably twenty-five years), I went flat out at the local BMX track yesterday. I’ve been there for the last few months and during lock-down, but not really in anger as I didn’t have the safety equipment. Although I did manage to dislocate my shoulder a few weeks ago, one quick tug and all was back in order. I had a feeling at the top of that start hill, well even before then I was seriously apprehensive before I even set out. Can I still do this? Do I have the balls to jump from the start gate and pedal flat out to the first jump? There was only one way to find out. I soared through the air like an eagle wearing more padding than Elton John’s grand piano in the back of a Pickford’s lorry. I was free again, the fear was gone. I was there for a couple of hours and probably did about fifteen laps or so. Your heart rate rockets, it’s very tiring.
There’s some other things I need to get a handle on, but I think this could be part of the solution.
Here’s to the next thirty years, at least.