I'd sleep well but the next day I'd be up and ready to face the day. I ate like the preverbial horse to fuel such a lifestyle but I thrived on the exercise and felt that endorphin high.
In my twenties I was going to the gym, walking/hiking, running around after students and was on my feet all day. I was travelling as soon as I had the chance, but I still worked hard getting that endorphin rush.
By my thirties I had a horse so I was riding virtually every day on top of being on my feet all day at work and still hiking with the students when I could. That endorphin rush still came each time I rode and I still ate like a horse, my horse.
It was around now I had my riding accident, but not with my animal I hasten to add, and with the severity of the injuries I wasn't as fit as I had been. I wasn't able to get that endorphin rush.
After a few years I got that endorphin rush back but my work load became limited. I still ate like a horse.
Every decade saw changes. Changes which, in my twenties I would never have understood. It took longer to recover from some session of hard work. I took longer to get going in the mornings.
Little things, but they began to creep up on me and I started to realise my brain might still be twenty but my body wasn't.
Like an older car, little things were starting to go wrong; the fog light didn't work, the dash would flicker a bit first thing in the morning and the engine seemed to have lost power especially in rough terrain or at sustained speed.
Now I am approaching my seventies and if I were a car it would be a restoration job for sure.
I can hear the owner now, chuckling under his breath at how the chassis is shot to pieces, the engine is choked up with sludge and the body work has lost its shine. He would pat the bonnet affectionately and grin. She might be old but she still goes.
When in our younger days, we never imagine, because we can't, how time and therefore age will effect us.
How those injuries we gained when we were younger were brushed off quickly but come back to haunt us later.
How the body itself seems to partially seize up and almost need a kick start to get going.
These days I do look at myself as a classic car; rust spots on the chassis and large areas of instability in the floor. The engine needs de-coking and that fatty sludge removed from the fuel system. The electrics are odd and seem to have failings in some areas whilst over sensitive in others.
As for the suspension well that started going wrong years ago but taking corners now is with a wing and a lot of prayer. Bumpy terrain makes the shocks squeal in protest and the bushes appear to be non existent.
The upholstery is tired too, but would come up with some leather polish..... but on the whole? Yes, she's a lovely little classic. Quirky and difficult to drive sometimes but she's all I got.
Little did I know or realise that the off road sport vehicle I call me, would wear out like this and the endorphin rush would be replaced with relief I'm still functioning and a slow, tortoise like day achieving stuff but at a much lower octane.
