I can't believe my son is 48 today, although I should as my eldest son will be 50 in January. Now in my book the older you get the later middle age becomes. I still think of my children as being in their twenties, even though I have grandchildren of that age. So with everyone looking younger these days, well maybe not all of us, I think middle age now begins when you are 60. After all what is the point of retiring in your sixties if you are already old and incapable? So you retire and become middle aged. There, that makes me feel better because in my head I am in my thirties, it is only the mirror that tells me otherwise, so don't look.
My father spent the first 30 odd years on horseback in India and he used to talk about being saddle sore. I didn't really experience this until I came to France and started riding my bike more often and further. This week, with no car, I am riding it quite a bit and the phrase saddle sore keeps reverberating in my brain. I bought a special gel seat but after several kilometres it is really uncomfortable. Yesterday I rode to the lake and was sitting on a bench eating an apple when a cyclist dressed in lycra came and sat down beside. We exchanged pleasantries about the lovely weather and the peaceful spot we had chosen and he said that he rode at least 50 km a day so I decided to broach the delicate subject of the sore bottom. He stood up and bent over presenting his bottom to me covered in tight fitting yellow lycra. I didn't know whether to be alarmed or laugh as I stared at this bright phenomenon in front of me. 'Padding', he said, 'that's the trick'. I looked closer and could not see how there was any room for a normal body let alone padding, and I don't think I will be taking on the lycra challenge just yet, maybe when I reach middle age.
My father spent the first 30 odd years on horseback in India and he used to talk about being saddle sore. I didn't really experience this until I came to France and started riding my bike more often and further. This week, with no car, I am riding it quite a bit and the phrase saddle sore keeps reverberating in my brain. I bought a special gel seat but after several kilometres it is really uncomfortable. Yesterday I rode to the lake and was sitting on a bench eating an apple when a cyclist dressed in lycra came and sat down beside. We exchanged pleasantries about the lovely weather and the peaceful spot we had chosen and he said that he rode at least 50 km a day so I decided to broach the delicate subject of the sore bottom. He stood up and bent over presenting his bottom to me covered in tight fitting yellow lycra. I didn't know whether to be alarmed or laugh as I stared at this bright phenomenon in front of me. 'Padding', he said, 'that's the trick'. I looked closer and could not see how there was any room for a normal body let alone padding, and I don't think I will be taking on the lycra challenge just yet, maybe when I reach middle age.
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