This past week has been notable for a couple of personal milestones.
The first occurred on Thursday when I officially entered the realm of Masters’ cycling, ticking over to 35 years of age. This, I am told, is a landmark in any cyclist’s life and it means I now enter the fastest growing age category in the sport.
I’ve noted a number of newspaper stories recently from home and abroad which have discussed the topic of cycling’s growth amongst middle-aged men particularly. Cycling’s been labelled the new mid-life crisis. Instead of trading in a wife or car, men the country and world over are trading in the couch for a road bike. And a carbon fibre road machine is a far healthier option than a sports car or new life partner for your marriage, your bank balance and your stomach circumference.
It has also given rise to a new favourite acronym of mine, the MAMIL or Middle-Aged Men In Lycra. Now, while that may be a visual image we can all do without, I readily admit, even with my rather limited experience in the saddle, that padded bike shorts do make the world of difference!
On a similar note, yesterday I read on the Stuff website Dr Hamish Osborne from Otago University prescribing exercise for its medicinal benefits. He believes the Government should spend more promoting exercise and less on drugs for the treatment of illnesses, the incidence of which could reduce by as much as 50% with daily exercise. So rather than chastise the MAMIL on how he looks in his figure-hugging get up or label his decision as a mid-life crisis, we should celebrate and follow his choice of a healthier lifestyle.
My second milestone could more accurately be described as a crisis.
It occurred at 4.35am on Saturday morning in what was easily the most terrifying moment of my life. Having overnighted in Christchurch on Friday, I was awoken from my slumber in my hotel room by the damaging earthquake which shook the garden city like never before.
I can think of no greater feeling of helplessness than to know you are completely at the whim of Mother Nature and I don’t think I have ever had a greater sense of relief than when the plane I was finally on lifted off on Saturday night bound for Invercargill.
Stories at the airport and on-board were swapped between friends and strangers, all with common themes of drama, fear and ultimately survival. Like most, I have mates who reside in Christchurch. Some had the good fortune to escape major damage while others had their homes and a lifetime of possessions ruined in less than 60 seconds.
There is something very crystallising about being reminded of your own mortality as we all were in the small hours of Saturday. That’s why I have made the lifestyle and wardrobe choice to join the ever increasing band of MAMILS and it’s why you should seriously think about doing the same.
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