The march into middle age isn't letting up

There are a few things in life that are certain, like death and taxes.  We'll all die and to get there, we have to age.  It doesn't matter how long you have on this earth, you'll age on your way to the check-out that is death.  For those who live long enough, you get to a time in life called middle age, and my march to middle age goes on unrelentingly.  That march was called into perfect relief earlier today.

I was at the local mall, checking it out, and much like the old man giving the mall cop (editorial aside-is there anything more oxymoronic than a mall cop?) the stink eye, I  felt like I was tossing the stink eye everywhere I went.  It started when I walked by that emporium of shattered teen-age dreams, Abercrombie & Fitch, and I was ensnared in the lethal tentacles that is the "scent" that wafts from their stores with abandon.  It's like a siren song to teens, but to those of us with the ability to think and reason, it's hideous.  As I stumbled from the A&F haze, grateful that I was still alive and that I had emerged with my chest hair still in place (because apparently chest hair is not welcome at or near there), I began to realize that there was not a single store in the mall that had anything for my demographic.  Nothing.  Unless I was buying a suit, which I was not.  As I walked around, I grew more and more disgruntled, letting the hammer of judgement fly about other shoppers clear inability to use their mirrors at home.  It was then that I realized I needed to get the heck out of there and get out I did.  From there, I went over to Trader Joe's and it was a madhouse. Again, the old man that I am becoming came out as I muttered about the crowds and the maddening need that some shoppers have to write a check (I've said it before but I think that's an offense worthy of execution).  As I left the cacophony of that place, I looked up into the amazingly beautiful blue sky and realized I needed to shake off my middle-age funk.  It was time for a run.

It's been far, far too long since I've gotten in a run, good or otherwise.  It's time to get back at it and I started today.  So I got out on a new trail and it was gorgeous.  It felt good to run again.  I was slow, ploddingly slow thanks to the weight I've gained back, but I ran a couple of miles and loved it.  The breeze was invigorating and the sun was welcome on my pasty arms and legs.  There will be no running shirtless for awhile, if at all, let me tell you.  The last thing I need to do is unleash my moobs on innocent New Englanders.  That said, the run made me feel better.  It did what I hoped.  I can't stop the oncoming train that is middle age, but I can feel better about it.  I'm going to stay out of the malls for awhile and stick to the trails.