Peyton Manning, veteran quarterback for the Denver Broncos, has just signed a contract for another year with that team. I am a big Peyton Manning fan and have been since his days at the University of Tennessee. I was also a fan of his father, Archie, himself a former pro football player.
The talking heads are all atwitter over Peyton’s age. He is 39. Too old, some are saying. Too old? I have underwear that old. He’s just going to get hurt, say others. Really? All this talk has started me thinking: Just how old is too old?
Now, granted, some professions are better left to the younger, stronger, more flexible people, but at what point does experience override chronological age? And does it? Also, at what point do people come to recognize in themselves when they are old?
I can use myself as an example. I am 74 years old, but it seems to me that just the other day I was running through the hills chasing deer and elk. As a youngster I played sports and had my share of minor injuries, but I just shook them off. My coach would say, “Rub some dirt on it and it will go away.” And it did. Today I have pains in places I didn’t even know I had places.
When I wake in the morning, I have to take a few minutes to get everything moving just to get out of bed. I go to the doctor now. I never did that as a younger man. Oh, and the doctor looks like he just got out of high school. That’s kind of scary. When I visit with my friends, invariably our conversations center around our pains and medications. It was Bette Davis who once said, “Getting old is not for sissies.” I say amen to that.
Now lest you think I am complaining, let me explain. Getting old is a blessing. I have so many friends who did not get to experience it. The wrinkles on my face to me are not a sign of aging but more like growth rings on a tree. Still, arthritic pain has become a steady companion of mine. I look forward to a brief nap in my recliner chair almost every day.
But, you know, with every passing day I appreciate more the simple things of life. The smile on my lovely wife’s face. The kisses from my granddaughter. The smell of fresh air blowing in my face.
As a young man, I pursued the good life. I worked to create wealth. I wanted success. Well, I attained it. Not in money, though. Not in worldly goods. No, my success comes from the contentment of my life. Once I heard this great philosophy: “Success in life is getting what you want. Happiness is wanting what you get.” Count me among the happy.
As I contemplate the next few years, I have a choice. I can either look forward to more happiness or I can put myself in a corner and look only at the difficulty. I’m pretty sure I am not going to play quarterback for Denver or for anyone. I’m pretty sure my aches and pains will still be with me. I will probably develop more growth rings. Someday, if I live long enough, I will not be able to drive my car. That will be hard, but I’ll deal with it.
I have loved and continue to love my life and I hope for you the same. Age is just a state of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.
