: Act your age! Or not…

By: g | No Comments » |

I’ve been feeling older just lately. As we all do, I am getting older, and my mid life crisis can’t be far away – I’ve already got the flash sports motorbike, and changed my appearance, but have still to earn the open shirt, hairy chest, gold chain and new girlfriend.

I’m not that old, surely. I’m not in my wheelchair yet (do they make recumbent mtbs?). So why so old?

I guess it’s because Bazza died. He was one of my heroes – world champion motorbike racer, hellraiser and colourful commentator, never afraid to speak his mind, despite upsetting more than a few people along the way. I never met him, although I did say g’day once as he rode past on his way to the pits.

When a hero goes, you start to feel your age, and ageing is a pain. Literally.

These days the creaks I hear are more likely to be from my joints than any bike problems. That weird noise you hear as you pass me up hills isn’t quite a death rattle, but it is a wheeze that’s going all the way to hell. Sure, I still ride as fast as I can, but going uphills is much slower, and on really good hills, I get to watch all the pretty spots floating in front of my eyes. Ooohhh, tri-i-i-i-i-i-p-py and free!

My desire for pain has certainly shrunk over the years – or was that just my balls? I ride much techier tracks these days, but I also have a much healthier respect for my body – or at least for the pain that results from a fall. I’ve fallen off enough to know I really don’t enjoy it, and I know bones don’t heal well as you get older. Hell, back when I was I was 25 an orthopaedic surgeon told me I was old for bones to heal well – I reckon it’s a wonder they manage to hold together at all these days. And don’t get me started on that particular set of injuries, which have come back to haunt me as arthritis.

Why, I remember in the war…

Oh woe, woe is me, boo bloody hoo! Get over it! Gawd, I’m starting to sound like Grandpa Simpson.

What a lot of codswallop. I’m not that old yet, and I have the joy of riding to keep me feeling young. I still have some muscles, so I eventually get up those hills and down the other side where the old adrenalin rush once again makes up for the pain. Aaah yes, a fun day in the saddle, good company, beautiful singletrack, fast downhills, not too many uphills – even my grandmother would feel young again. Hell, riding might even be good for me if I gave up all my bad habits and ate well!

Anyway, at my age, old is a state of mind – believe you’re getting old and useless, and you soon will be. Still see yourself as young, and you’ve found the fountain of youth. I’ve known some really conservative crustys only half my age, as well as some radical, grey haired and wrinkled young hooligans. Neither group “acted their age”.

And let’s face it – I’ve only ever heard of one alternative to getting older, and that involves wooden boxes, deep holes, lots of quiet darkness, and worms. No thanks, that alternative can wait.

So get out there, ride, and have fun. Act like a goose in front of your mates. Stop feeling so old and sorry for yourself! Smile. Laugh. Yell. Weeeeeeeee!

You’ll thank yourself for it.

Vale Bazza.

 

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