Walking

The Seventh Decade Shuffle: New Moves, Old Joints, and Unexpected Beats

Entering my seventh decade feels a bit like joining a new season of “Dancing with the Stars”—except the stars are my grandkids, my doctor, and the ever-present siren call of retirement planning. Here’s how the choreography is going so far:

1. The Weighty Waltz

Walking daily used to keep the “pound demons” at bay.
Now?

  • The demons apparently have better cardio than I do.
  • Is it my slower pace, shorter distance, or is my body still in mourning for the Texas trails I left behind?
  • Oklahoma, you’ve got big walking shoes to fill.

2. The Lab Report Rumba

Yearly physicals now come with a side of mystery:

  • “Good news: your liver and kidneys are happy campers! But why is your potassium doing the cha-cha?”
  • Turns out, swapping candy for nuts and raisins comes with its own plot twist—sky-high potassium.
  • Considering switching to cranberries, but they just don’t have the same snack-appeal.
  • Even my daily Sonic Iced Tea is under nutritional review. Next up: water, but only if garnished with denial.

3. The Proximity Polka

For the first time in years, I’m within 25 minutes of two of my kids—and a grandchild!

  • After the nomadic years of college, internships, and “that little COVID reunion,” this is a big change.
  • New grandparent dance moves required. Baby steps, literally.

4. The Retirement Riff

Testing out the “retirement dance”:

  • What will it look like when my wife and I both retire?
  • Will we be waltzing into the sunset, or quickstepping around health insurance premiums?
  • She might keep consulting to protect our nest egg from an early molt.

5. The Local Loop (or, The Costco Conga)

New city, new adventures! Or, at least, new routes to Sam’s, Costco, Aldi, and Chick-Fil-A.

  • If exploring means discovering a new traffic light between me and a chicken sandwich, consider me Magellan.

6. The Pickup Truck Two-Step

Still driving the Sienna van to Home Depot.

  • I throw down the seats and hope no one notices me hauling mulch with minivan swagger.
  • Someday, I’ll get a truck—and finally earn those approving nods from fellow DIYers.

7. The Flexibility Foxtrot

Kids nearby today, but maybe not tomorrow.

  • Any comfort I find in this house or city could be temporary—family migration is always a possibility.
  • Like any good dancer, I need to stay light on my feet (and limber in the mind).

Final Bow

No dread—just anticipation. This decade will reveal its steps with or without my rhythm. While my bones are still flexible (ish), my mind has some catching up to do. Admitting it is my first move toward embracing the dance.

May your seventh-decade shuffle be full of laughs, love, and only the occasional pulled muscle.

The Rec Center Walk

This past weekend, it was really cold in Oklahoma. With flurries blowing, I had three choices: take my walk outside and be miserable, skip my walk entirely, or go with my wife to the rec center and walk as she swam. I opted to go to the rec center.

We have an “old folks” rec center near our home. If you are over 50, you can join and take advantage of the programs specifically designed for more seasoned citizens. While I don’t physically put myself in this age group, I can’t hide from the chronological facts. So, as she swam, I took my first walk on the 11-laps-per-mile track.

When I first started, the track was not crowded. As I added laps to my total, more people came to join me, and I was glad to see people doing healthy things. But, I had some criticism. If people want to walk 3 -across and take up the whole track, I consider this rude. When I walk outside, I stay aware of who is coming toward me and who is behind me. On the rec center track, I had to get in the habit of yelling, “On your left” while a few yards behind. (Also, good etiquette outside.) They moved with slight annoyance. I thanked them for allowing me by…or was I thanking them for sharing the track like a civilized person would do? While this was annoying, I had a far greater frustration.

Typically, I walk 15-16 minute miles. I have gotten in the habit of using a phone app that announces the miles and the minutes per mile. When the app told me I had completed my first mile at a time of 19+ minutes. I was appalled. Prior to this disturbing announcement, I was convinced I was walking an average pace. Yes, passing people and diving through gaps does cause me to break from my normal stride. Yet, walking 3 minutes slower than normal did not sit well. The only way to solve this problem was walking faster. When the 3 miles were completed, I did not greatly improve my minutes/mile speed.

After doubting my masculinity and almost accepting the fact I am old, I developed a theory. I am certain my phone app and the GPS function were actively working against me. The GPS was not able to detect whether I was on the outer ring or the inner walking ring.

My extremely well-read friend gave this response to my question:

Walking small, repetitive laps (e.g., around a track or small park) can sometimes confuse GPS systems. The curves and overlapping paths may result in under- or over-estimating distances due to signal "drift" or smoothing.

Whether this is accurate or not, I am claiming it. As long as I am in control of my faculties, I will not trust a sporadic electronic hiccup over my gut. And, by extension, I am unlikely to walk rec center laps again…

The Coons Go On An Adventure

While my photography doesn’t give evidence of it, a mother and 4 kits were involved in this siting.

My “whimsical friend” described the raccoon mating cycle like this:

During the whimsical season of summer, raccoons embark upon their enchanting mating rituals. These cunning creatures engage in romantic escapades from mid to late summer. Ah, the dance of love!

And behold, the magical outcome of their passionate encounters! After a gestation period ranging from a swift sixty to seventy-four days, a joyous event unfolds. The raccoon family welcomes the arrival of their delightful cubs, up to four in number. Oh, the adorable offspring that grace the world!

As the days pass and the sun gently caresses the earth, the baby raccoons undergo a wondrous transformation. Their curious minds awaken, and their eager eyes and ears open wide, revealing the wonders of their surroundings. This enchanting sight typically occurs around eighteen to twenty-four days after their birth.

With each passing moment, the young raccoons grow stronger and more adventurous. They embark upon their own playful journeys, discovering the realm around them. In a mere span of four to six weeks, these remarkable creatures find their footing and embark on their first steps, exploring the world with their tiny paws. Oh, the marvel of nature’s progression!

Thus, we witness the circle of life unfolding in the raccoon kingdom. From the fervent mating season to the birth of their precious kits and the swift development of these young ones, the raccoons teach us the beauty of growth and the wonder of life’s ever-changing tapestry.

Bees Be Gone

I have seen many things on my walk, but I have not seen a bee removal service. I did not fly in for a bee’s eye view. I did hear a vacuum cleaner going. I am guessing the bees don’t call this guy to clean out the previous owner’s possessions before they move in.

Neglected Baby?

Baby debris along the path

When I walk, I see all manner of things. I have seen a heavily tattooed lady with a photographer getting glam shots with the train tracks as a backdrop. I have seen birds of prey along the train tracks who were apparently killed somehow during that interaction. And, when I see people pushing their dogs (either small or old) in “pet movers”, I still pinch myself. A few weeks ago, I think I saw a mother pushing a baby carriage (or a pram for those who watch streaming shows taking place in England).

As I was nearing the long stretch of path along the train tracks, I was certain I saw a mother with an old-fashion style baby carriage. It was not one of those that allowed mothers to walk/jog while the child faced forward and had no contact with the mother. (Yes, sometimes it is the father, but mothers (or nannies?) seem to get “child walking” duty most often than the men.) As they turned off the path, I thought, “Maybe I will see them again when I turn off on that same road.” Well, I didn’t. I did find the toy pictured above at the entrance to a neighborhood. It was not “dropped” on the rock. I set it there, hoping the “mystery mom” would find it and reclaim it. And, if it were too filthy to reclaim, maybe she would decide to remove the reminder of her previous carelessness. After a few weeks and being abused by the week of Texas winter, the toy remained unclaimed.

The bottle is another matter. Realizing the previous baby carriage may have been a pet mover with spa services (i.e. chew toys etc), I am not sure how to explain the bottle. The “mother who is staring at her phone and ignoring her child” is one possibility. My preferred theory is a weekend visitor who took a walk and failed to notice the bottle tumbling from the child. For this theory to hold true, a grandmother who may have been walking with the mother and child would have also ignored the child.

My parenting days were many years ago. I suppose I may have been too attentive to my kids. I can’t imagine being with my young kids and not noticing the loss of some dear toy or source of nourishment. This is not an indictment of parents today. It is a legitimate question. What is more important than keeping track of your kids? Based on the stories in the news, many parents today have a list longer than I did.

Good Morning…uh

Many days when I take my walk, I find I am the people I bump into are my first non-family contacts of the day. Today I was reassured when someone else confirmed this dilemma also poses problems for them.

Mid-afternoon today, I “shifted” (i.e. the left side of the sidewalk) into the passing lane as I prepared to pass a lady walking her dog. I gave the customary, “On your left” warning.

She responded back with the popular, “Good morning…uh, I mean, good afternoon.”

I replied, “Don’t worry. I do it too. Have a great day!”

Phone conversations don’t seem to clear the first “good morning” of the day. It seems many of us have a “good morning” queued up. If we don’t get the opportunity to use it in the morning, it is still lurking and waiting to come out. It matters not if it is morning, late afternoon or evening. It is waiting patiently for your first attempt at being social. Whether you consciously realize its presence or not, it is going to fight a battle with your lips to be the first social thing to emerge from your mouth.

This is a PSA. The problem is real. If you are fortunate enough to not lose control of your mouth with this greeting, you likely have other places where your body and mind are not in sync. You can expect the “good morning” crowd to show you grace at that time, too. Thank you.