Sounds perilously like a rather dry paper in a dusty psychology journal about vanity, narcissism and insecurity in men of a certain vintage, doesn't it? The topic comes to mind for two reasons; the first being that the title of my Blog was a source of some conjecture among the friends of mine who glimpsed the first post in my new Blog, as in, what exactly IS a man of a certain vintage, and, since being poisoned in Cambodia, I have lost more than fifteen pounds in the last month.
I first began using the phrase, "man of a certain vintage", as a counterpoint in many conversations over the past decade when referencing my marathon running. Race times that don't seem all that impressive in and of themselves take on an entirely different context when you tack on, "for a man of a certain vintage". A three hour and thirty minute marathon time is a different kettle of fish when you factor in things like age and gender. It is in fact a world record if you live and run long enough! "For a man of a certain vintage", also comes in useful when addressing the effects of the passage of time on the human body. I have more aches and pains, it takes longer to get out of bed in the morning, and I actually make noises when I attempt to sit or stand.
And once you're fifty, there is no getting around the math or the vocabulary, you are indeed, half a century, either young or old depending on your outlook. I always used to say that, "age is an attitude", but I suspect that that was mostly in conversations with younger women that I longed to date. Or more accurately, with whom I wished to acquire carnal knowledge. But I do like the term vintage in part because for me it conjures up images of wine good enough to be cellared, timeless clothes and great sports cars. Vintage hints at certain characteristics; qualities of excellence, a certain rarity, an enduring appeal, that which over time acquires the status of being a classic. Time and age are essential to being vintage, indeed you can't be vintage unless you have aged and aged well. And aged well wears much more comfortably than, "old".
And when I weighed myself the other morning I actually saw 195 pounds on the scale. I haven't weighted this little since I was training to qualify for Boston, which is some three years ago. And as much as I would like to credit discipline, training and diet to my physical transformation, I must instead give credit where credit is due, to the house-cleaning staff at the Golden Temple Hotel in Siem Reap for leaving cleaning fluid behind in my room - in a water bottle of all things. An accident to be sure, but an entirely preventable one. So on December 12 I got the Michelin tour of hospitals in Siem Reap, Cambodia and Bangkok, Thailand. Starting with the stomach pumping, nose tube and intravenous feeding, the pounds just began to peel off. When alcohol, caffeine, spicy and fatty foods, among other items, were stripped from my diet, the pounds began to peel off even faster!
But all things being equal, I actually look physically better at the moment than I have in some time. So there was a silver lining in being poisoned and in having my trip to Asia turned upside down. I'd still like the deductible back on my health and travel insurance, but I suspect that my self-image is just as happy to settle for losing nearly twenty pounds and looking fabulous in the mirror. Excuse me while I preen for a moment...
The changes to my diet are in place until after I run Vancouver Marathon in May, so I can tell myself that it is more of a training regimen than the result of an accident and a treatment plan imposed by medical professionals. Makes me think I'm sort of in control. Which is important to a man of a certain vintage.
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