It Ends With A 6

Well, good morning! It’s that time again! Birthday week. Just what you’ve all been waiting for.

Now, this one isn’t a big one. It doesn’t end in a “5” or “0”, so there’s no need for fanfare of any kind. No, this one is actually a little more frightening – it ends with a “6”, which, as we all know, is the downhill slide to the next “0.” So hold on tight.

Thanks to modern day media, it’s quick and easy to reminisce on years past and see the good, bad, and ugly of it all at the tap of a screen. And also see how much your face has wrinkled. That’s always a fun one. But overall the memories are heartwarming and kind and I enjoy looking back so I can reflect forward into what I wish the future to become. Strange balance, that looking back and looking forward thing. As I’ve aged and hopefully matured, I balance it better than before, but that’s a whole other story for a while other time. Back to the future, for now, shall we?

It’s funny how fast a year flies by, isn’t it? Or five years, or six. Seems like I just celebrated my 50th in Times Square, and here I am about to have a “6” on the end of it. Ugh. How’d that happen? I swear I’m not that old, time hasn’t gone that quickly, my left shoulder doesn’t hurt that badly.

Things have changed, people have changed, schedules, health, and routines have changed. Notably for me, my workout frequency. I ain’t happy about it, mind you, but for now, it just is what it is. Yesterday I actually made it to the gym, albeit with a little headache which made it a little difficult and changed my routine just a little. But then something big happened. I did an abbreviated weight routine and then got on the treadmill hoping for my headache med to kick in while I walked. And there, right in front of me, was “the room.” Yeah, that one. The one where the rope hangs from the ceiling beam. The rope you’re supposed to climb. The one I haven’t climbed in probably six months. Staring me in the face. Taunting.

Dang it.

Not normally a big deal, but this week? This week it’s a big deal. For the last handful of years, in anticipation of the birthday, I’d work on my rope climbing skills so that I could prove to myself and the big flat earth that I could still climb the dern thing even though I was turning a year older. And here I am now, two days before The Day, and I haven’t climbed in months. I’m not ready for it. Not even close. But I can’t not do it. I’m too stubborn for that. Far too stubborn. I have a point to prove.

So I finished my mile on the mill, where I had been scoping the room for a girl to film the attempt. Bingo. Found our fitness director, Jason, working out with a young lady whom I’d never seen before but I figured had to be a sweet kid since she was hanging out with other sweet kids. And just as I disembarked the treader, Jason and she headed into the dreaded room. It was fate.

I mustered up and went in. Put my things down and readied the camera. Got the rope off the hook and had a brief stare-down with what had the potential to be a painful ending. I approached the sweet young lady between her sets (gym etiquette and all) and she smiled big and agreed to help a sister out. Over we went to the rope; a new rope which I had never climbed. I don’t mean just new to me, but new to the world, like this thing is new and shiny and slick and oh my word THIS THING IS SLICK.  I couldn’t do it. Literally could not do it. Slid like a greased pig on a hot summer day in Portugal. No bueno. Hurt my hands, and everything else in the attempt. At least I didn’t fall off. But I was disappointed. Sweet little video girl was encouraging still, but I was ticked off.

Then, lo and behold, I realized the OTHER rope (has there always been two in this room???) was an OLD rope. Not slick. Old, worn, rough, dry, and all the other attributes you’d want a climbing rope to have. I looked at it, looked at her, and said, “hang on, we’re doing this one.” I was not going to let this task beat me. I have something to prove.

I took a deep breath, readied myself but mostly my mind (because I may have been a little scared at this point), and jumped and grabbed the old rope, started to pull myself up, ugly as the technique was, and grunted my way to the top. Sweet little girl encouraging me all the way. Good pick, Jason.

Slid down, tried to breathe, tried not to cry. Got a couple of “that was awesome” and “congratulations” from a couple of strangers in the room, thanked the sweet girl for her time and encouragement, grabbed my things and headed to the locker room. And that’s when the tears started.

I have no idea why.

Lots of reasons, probably. Stress, accomplishment, pain, frustration, birthday, weakness, exertion, release. All of it at once. And it came out my eyeballs.

I was shocked that I accomplished the task, honestly. I wasn’t prepared, but wasn’t completely unprepared, either. Perhaps if I had been a little more prepared I could have climbed the slick rope. But even with less than best prep, there was still something I could accomplish, I just had to find the right tool, the right motivation, the right mindset, the right people surrounding me, all to help me succeed.

That’s how it is in life, isn’t it?

Being prepared for Plan A is probably always most rewarding, but always being prepared for Plan B is a great Plan B to have.  I’m learning to cut myself some slack, and look for all the surrounding possibilities before I throw in the towel. Don’t walk away just because what you thought something should be doesn’t turn out to be what you thought. You’ll miss a lot of good in life.

Reflection, back and forward, circling it all up and tying a tidy bow – birthdays are good for that. But for now, tomorrow when I wake up another year older, the number may be bigger, but I showed it who’s boss. 😉