Dog Years

I’m exhausted. It’s only Monday.

All day long I felt like I had endless energy. I felt focused, I felt like I was crossing things off my list left and right, and I felt good.

I arrived home and instantly felt beat. Weary. Defeated. Odd, since my day was super good. I changed into my walking clothes for a stroll that was going to be my first since last year. But then I made the mistake of sitting down on the couch for a moment, and here I sit…almost three hours later. I’ve gotten up to do minimal work in the form of turning on the backyard sprinkler, I’ve enjoyed maximum calories in the form of an extra rib-eye that I was going to cook then ration out over the next five days by topping salads with it. But nope. (Don’t tell the other four days they missed out.)

I feel like my age has been multiplied umpteen times and like I’m wading through dog years. And I’d like someone to at least throw me a bone.

There’s no human reason to feel this tired, as least not that I know of. And I don’t remember signing up for this. I stepped outside a while ago and noticed a faint pink hue in the sky from the sunset. Then I noticed my eyes were burning looking at it, even though it was a sunset made up of the most pale shades in the rainbow.

When they said my metabolism would change once I hit 30, I scoffed. I thought it was a terrible rumor. Well, it’s certainly terrible, but it’s no rumor.

When they said I shouldn’t rush to grow up, I thought they were being silly and didn’t know what they were talking about. But now as an adult I relish my silliest of moments and give that same advice to others.

It’s funny how we spend much of our early life wishing we were older to do this or that, go here or there, date this person or that, be respected by him or her. We wish we could multiply our age — maybe by a dog year — and jump ahead to the good stuff.

But once you reach a certain age, even the simple things take more energy than they used to, a routine is more draining than it should to be and I’ve heard people say it only compounds year after year. Our dog years are here to stay, but whenever a bit of energy finds us, let’s remember to fetch a great adventure, chase an enchanting dream and chow down on a terrific meal. It’s all the stuff that helps our dog years seem distant, and our now years seem full.

Tonight I am thankful for the knowledge that for as ridiculously, impossibly exhausted as a random day can make me feel, I can throw aside my dog years and be assured of a day just around the corner where frolicking will replace fatigue, and where chasing will replace challenges.

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