I will race tomorrow in the Chicago Triathlon after a year off (and before that, several years off due to the pandemic and nonsense Covid restrictions). My anxiety and dread have been building over the course of the week, though I am experienced enough at endurance sports by now to avoid the not quite abject terror I felt when first starting out. So why still do it? Why endure the discomfort, fatigue, and soreness not just on race day but throughout the training year? Because there is simply no substitute for a sense of health and wellbeing that come with strenuous physical effort. As vitality ebbs away with age, the willingness and ability to manage physical feats diminishes (along with mental acuity). So for me at least, it's a matter of keeping what I've got, best as I can, rather than giving it away needlessly. By way of comparison, look around at folks at the airport and consider just how well they could manage long treks through the concourse carrying their belongings (minus wheelie bags) or observe commonplace struggles hoisting bags into overhead compartments. Oddly, a concerted campaign for fat acceptance has coincided the remarkable rise in obesity in the U.S. and elsewhere. I also learned recently that in adulthood, there are two phases of rapid aging around 45 and 60 rather than slow, steady deterioration. But because the experience is continuous, one may not notice it. At least in hindsight, I noticed both accelerations as they registered their effects on my body (and belt size) and sports performance.
In a wide-ranging podcast that included comments about stoking resentments, one of the participants remarked that young people envy wealth and influence that (may) accrue to others over a lifetime of earning and accomplishment. (Old and wise is a thing; young and wise isn't.) On balance, it was further suggested that old people would trade places in a heartbeat with a young person to regain youth, beauty, libido, and relatively effortless athleticism lost to age and infirmity. (Old and stupid is also a thing.) No magic spell exists to make that body swap, but whenever a fictional story employs that plot device, after a brief period of grass-is-greener reveling and fish-out-of-water hijinks, characters typically seek to return chastened to their familiar former places. So the thought experiment is run, at least for entertainment value, and proper conclusions are drawn. But what about those resentments?
Affluence and social rank (twin lures/goals of youth) don't always take a lifetime to achieve. Some enjoy early success or are simply born into families that award those distinctions passively. However, sudden fame is well known to lead to corruptions of character, and it's arguable that escaping such corruptions if born into family wealth is a trick few manage. (Dynastic nepotism is a thing.) Yet because of perennial inequalities embedded over millennia in social systems, fanned by mass media selling class envy and even more recently social media turning famous people into idols, normies may seek easy paths to achievement through shortcuts and fakery, corruptions be damned. They may not be worshipping the wrong idols exactly but exhibit a basic misunderstanding how to achieve worthwhile goals over a lifetime. Hard work, sacrifice, and slow, steady progress (also difficult to notice) don't figure highly for everyone.
I'd venture that the attribute most greatly valued by people old enough to have gotten their heads on straight and priorities aligned with reality is wellness. Once that's lost, well, life takes on very a different cast. So while I'm able, I'll be swimming, biking, and running but not wasting my time envying others for accomplishments that have eluded me. Media idols and influencers paraded in front of the masses for worship? Wouldn't wanna be them.
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