The Year I Started to Feel Middle-Aged ~ P90X Blog 2

Just hanging out on a wooden Navy ship, preparing to shoot cannons
at the British, or hordes of elderly tourists. Whichever.

About five years ago, Ross-mosis wanted to go see a band called The Killers play a show in Utah. I guarantee you know their biggest hit song, Mom. "Somebody told me, that you had a boyfriend, that looks like a girlfriend, that I had in February of last year.

No? Ok, Mom, here's a link to the video. Careful. It's catchy.

Ross-mosis and I were pretty sure this was going to be awesome because the band was playing an old airplane hangar out by the Great Salt Lake. It was a bizarre location and it couldn't have been more than 2,000 people at the show.

Ross-mosis and I powered our way to within about 30 feet of the stage. I looked around at the crowd a few minutes before the show started (after an amazing set by Louis XVI, the best opening act I've ever seen). "Ross-mosis, do you realize we are in the upper 5 percent of age of all the people here?"

He looked around and shrugged. "I guess we're old people tonight."

And then we proceeded to witness the third-greatest concert I've ever seen. The Killers were awesome. The age thing? That didn't bother me, either. I was in the best shape of my life at age 30, weighing about what I weighed in sixth grade. I skied. I didn't have kids. I did things young people did.

Well, I did things young people in Salt Lake did.

Five years and 3,000 miles away, I've been having my first middle-aged moments and it's not entirely unpleasant. Brace yourself for a shock: Boston is not very similar to Salt Lake City. I don't know how Mitt Romney gets along here.

Boston is a totally fun town. It has great bars and great concerts. The restaurants are among the best in the world. There's historical sites everywhere and cultural centers that people visit from around the globe.

It is also a younger man's town, and I am no longer a younger man.

Viking is one of my best friends. We met in second grade at Afton-Lakeland Elementary when he moved into the school district. We were best man in each other's weddings. He came a couple weeks ago with his wife, Sweet Caroline (Bom-Bom-Bom!) to celebrate their ninth wedding anniversary.

When I have friends in town, I like to do touristy things with them. We plod around the Old North End, visiting historical sites and pastry shops. We go visit the USS Constitution, a 225-year-old boat still technically in active military service.

And somewhere along the line, my back starts killing me from all the walking. I bend at the waist, then I reverse the maneuver and stick my belly out, arching my back. I sit down. Generally speaking, my back hurts like an old man's back would hurt.

All those bars, concerts and restaurants that serve food until 2 a.m. are wonderful, but that's not really what I'm interested in anymore. Bars are expensive and I have great beer in my refrigerator. This leads me to my next blog: I am turning into the most boring person on the face of the planet.

This has to be normal. People get older and their backs start hurting. They have kids and don't particularly want to hang out in bars until 1 a.m. You can't look at this situation with any wistful sadness. It would be sad if I *wanted* to go out to the bars or go see concerts and come home at 1 a.m. on a regular basis. Instead, I enjoy playing Solitaire Blitz on Facebook. You should send me a game request.

The back can be dealt with. A little yoga fixed the lower-back situation pretty much immediately. But there it is: Dealing with middle-aged problems. Yep, I'm just counting down the days until Medicare and Social Security eligibility. And perhaps it's time to consider voting Republican.

Ha!