I knew I was getting old when I

Had to nap for thirty minutes after I ran and walked for less than a mile, did nine and half push-ups (I was tempted to count my last a full one, but my integrity wouldn’t allow,) and ten sit-ups.

My six-pack gradually turned into one and I had to squeeze it hard when I tried to bend down to tie my shoes.

When my youngest son took me to the cleaners for the first time in his life in a tennis match and rubbed it in by trying to comfort me, saying “Dad, you are not so bad for your age.” Well, at least I can still beat Mr. Wolfshohl who is about my age, thanks to his bad knees that hamper his movement a little bit. I could tell he was a better player than me the only time we played, but I was in a better shape then. Speaking of tennis, I had to ask my opponent, who was an oldy himself, to decide the game by a coin toss in a 4.0 city championship final. We were both too tired to finish the match.

I have no retort when Michael challenges, which he does all the time: “Dad, you want to fight?” The few times I mustered enough courage to do it, he picked me up and threw me across the living room as if I were a toothpick and caused his mother to scream out loud: “Don’t kill your Daddy!”

In our annual turkey bowl, in which our team’s (Rob and I) losing streak now stands at 3, I caught a ball and took off for a sure TD. Oh, what a feeling to see nothing but green grass before me! But William tracked me down and tackled me from behind, causing me to tumble twice. When I came to, I had to check to see if all my body parts were still functioning. I guess I had lost a step or two. By the way, William probably overdid it that time. His brothers were mad at him. “Are you trying to kill Daddy,” they yelled at him.

I hit a serve with all my might in a heated tennis match against a Chinese girl and felt a sharp pain in my shoulder that knocked my powerful right arm out of commission for the longest time. In fact, it took me almost a year to heal completely. Instead of throwing the football, I had to push it last year in both our Turkey Bowl and the Christmas Bowl, and I think that was the only reason that we lost. I had the unpleasant duty of guarding JD’s dad and I barely touched him one time, but he fell down in a big tumble. I guess he and I are about the same age. Yes, we are getting old. By the way, I went to see a Kungfu doctor, the Chinese version of chiropractor, when I was in Taiwan, but it only made things worse. Michael was right about this.

Well, I will quit here. My posts tend to be longwinded, which is another sure sign that I am getting old. Hey, don’t be giddy about it - you are getting old too. “Old man, look at my life, I’m a lot like you were.” Where does this line come from? Any other geezer out there?