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Over time I have come to accept that age is just a number. It can be used as potential gauge of a lot of things, but it’s really just a milepost. I’ve roamed this planet for 37 years and have experienced quite a bit. The pleasures, the pains and every emotion in between. At this point, my age is simply an indicator of the events that I’ve lived through. Hostages in Iran, the fall of the iron curtain, the opening of China to the world, and the onset of the digital age are among the key events that have shaped the world in the time that I’ve breathed it’s air.

How old do I feel? 25. Some days 19, but it’s not awkward to order a drink since I’m legal, so 19 is fleeting. 

What’s my metabolic age? 16. According to my Tanita scale, anyway. Let’s hope the hormones of the 16 year old don’t come with that.

So I can measure myself in many different ways, but at the end of the day it is just a snapshot in time. Looking back is interesting but it obfuscates the present. Looking forward is interesting as well, but worrying about it may prevent enjoying the here and now. 

If what I did yesterday still seems big and audacious, then I must not have tried hard enough today.

Rock on.


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