Rode Hard & Put Away Wet

I’ve always liked that expression because it means you’re wiped out by living life.

The difficulty of pushing sixty is that it’s pretty easy to get tired and stay tired.

Doesn’t take just a little rest to get going again.

We all wax poetic about the days when we could stay out partying after a softball game, get up for work, work an entire day, and play another game and have more beer and wings after.

Now, it’s quite possible to sleep 8 hours and wake up feeling more tired than when you went to bed!

And I particularly love when I wake up with pain in a limb after going to bed completely intact.

I woke up wiped out on Tuesday morning, with a busy work day staring me in the face.

Oliver and Miller also had grand plans for me.

The very last thing I wanted to do was throw 50 balls off the garage for Ollie, but I had zero choice in the matter.

The sun was shining. He dropped the ball at my feet. He looked up at me.

“Let’s play ball,” I said.

Pure happiness.

But by 6:00 it felt like it was two in the morning.

Thankfully, we’ve been married long enough to read the signals.

Kathy knew that I had zero interest in anything other than not thinking about doing anything.

“We can talk about it on Wednesday,” she said about one thing or another.

“Or Saturday,” I said. “Who knows how long it’ll take to recover.”

Supposed to be sixty here tomorrow.

There are courses open…

…Tiger Woods could call to ask me to join him for a round…

…won’t be participating.

Rode hard.

Put away wet.