Fifty is Nifty (aka the one about the hidden benefits of being 5-0)

I've been fifty nearly two weeks now and I'm here to tell you that there are things they don't tell you. Oh, not bad stuff. I know menopause is coming, AARP membership notices, graying hair, thinning hair, unexplained weight gain, that dreaded baseline colonoscopy. Everyone talks about those. Hell, most women sit around waiting for them to arrive. "Shh.... I think that was it. Yep, it's another gray hair. No, wait. I'm wrong. It's a hot flash." Then (and this is the part that really irks me) they piss and moan and whine about how old they're getting. Jesus. Maybe if they got out and did something other than riding the couch straight to the cemetery, they wouldn't have time to worry about getting old because - lean in a little closer so you can hear me real good - THEY WOULDN'T BE GETTING OLD.

God bless... I have a digression problem. Though it is all related. They do on and on about the shitty part of the years passing without ever mentioning the good stuff. Maybe it's because I'm newly fifty and out here living my best life, but I've discovered a couple pretty nifty things about being fifty (and the ability to create poetry isn't one of them...necessarily). Yeah, yeah... I'm past my child bearing years and my nest is empty except for a highly exuberant lab mix (It was never full to begin with so...). I guess I'm talking about one thing in particular that once realized can enhance nearly everything you do.

Get this - When you turn fifty, you're statistically older than more than half the population. This means that it's highly probable that the majority of people you meet are younger than you.

I know what you're all thinking right  now. What the ever-loving f***?!? How did that make the good list? So now that I'm fifty, I'm old? 

Sweet baby Jesus zip-tied to the manger. First of all, take the word OLD out of your vocabulary. Being older doesn't have to mean you're old. My sister was older than me when I was born - Seventeen months old. That doesn't mean she was old. Second of all..... Go back and read "first of all" again. And then get off the couch and do something. We're all going to the cemetery (I plan to donate everything that can be donated, personally, but bear with the argument anyway). One day. One day. Not today. Probably not tomorrow. And if it is tomorrow, who's going to die smiling? Me because I was daydreaming about my next run-cation and got hit by a car while jaywalking while running in Stockholm? Or you........who died of an undiagnosed heart condition while sitting on the couch? I'm speaking figuratively, of course, but my point is an important one. You're not dead until you're dead. And you're not old until you think you are.

So you can sit there thinking that being older than half the population is a horrible, horrible thing. Or you can look at it how I do. For example...

• When you meet an attractive, intriguing someone, the big question used to be "Hmm... I wonder how old he/she is?" That question no longer exists. It's a zero sum game. He or she is younger than you. Unless they whip out their AARP card (I don't yet have one. If they do discounts on travel, I'm in) or talk about being alive during The War, it's a fairly safe assumption - They're younger. This means that they bring all that nice new shiny baggage with them and steamer truck of concomitant immaturity. Tread carefully. As for me..... I'm screwed. I won't date anyone younger (That has NEVER worked out in my favor...ever) and I can't seem to find anyone older who can keep up with me (Hell, I'd probably be willing to date someone who wanted to keep up with me). Everyone is so busy being....I dunno....old. And honestly, I'm ok with that. For them. I'm also ok with being alone. That's says everything about my introversion and very little about my age. Though I will say this - I'm over thinking I need someone to be someone. Dammit, that realization was freeing. Again, I digress....

• Or you go for a run (Just as an example...it could be any challenging endeavor. Rock climbing, spinning, a game of HORSE, writing a novel, getting an advanced degree, learning a new language, etc) and that guy who can't quite keep up or that gal you passed like she was standing still, guess how old he or she is? YOUNGER THAN YOU. I had that amazing epiphany while running this morning. I was cruising along on tired legs (It's the last day of my spring run-cation and I've been running and walking A LOT, like averaging 23,000 steps/day) not feeling like I was having the best day ever. Up head was a guy dressed in black. I marked him, meaning I planned to catch him. It's a little mental game I play with myself (Running is boring and I have to create some kind of intrigue). Anyway, he was in the distance then suddenly I caught up with him at a red light. Green light - GO! I took off at my normal pace (I promise I didn't race him) and he fell behind. Until the next red light. Green light - GO! I took off again; he fell behind. See the pattern? Finally, at about the fourth red light I took a look at him. Just a glance. It was then that I realized the best part about being fifty. I'm older than most of the people I catch and run past!!!! And the ones that pass me? Chances are they're younger.

Why doesn't anyone ever tell you this stuff? Oh, yeah.....the couch. It's not like I'm a competitive asshole. I don't gloat as I go past and I won't flash my AARP card (once I get it, I mean). It's just one of those things that's good to know. Because getting older does happen. I'm not as fast as I used to be and that colonoscopy appointment is looming. If I don't find a way to celebrate what I've got, all I'll have is gray hair and hot flashes. It's not like I've found the fountain of youth; I occasionally can't remember why I'm in the kitchen and not too long ago I looked for my phone while I was talking on it. But f*** I refuse to give up or give in.

Why does our best life have to happen before fifty? Why does being fifty essentially equate to rolling up the sidewalks? If all that's true, then what's the point? What am I supposed to do? Live on the memories?

What about creating new ones? And taking lots of pictures because, let's face it, memory does play tricks with age. That's where I am with it, where I am with fifty. I think it's a pretty freaking nifty soo far (There's that accidental poetry again. Maybe it is a hidden benefit of age).