The Exuberance of Enervation

The Exuberance of Enervation
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“Youth is a gift of nature, Age is a work of art.”
— Scott Allen, Senior Citizen, World Class Ironman Triathlete —

The alarm went off at 6:15 this morning, blaring like a feline-bitch in heat.

I wanted to throw a rock at it, but there were no rocks around and I was in the middle of turning 15 again.

I tried to pretend the high-pitch mewl was melodic, a euphonic complement to our phrenetic rhythm. Alas, pretending didn’t work.

Then I tried to simply focus on the slippery—and—the somatic, the brushing-touching-feeling, the almost-there, the novelty of never-before, the challenge of overcoming all obstacles, and the sheer pleasure of feeling like an utter brute within the soothing grasp of ineffable beauty.

At last, the release and the relief were immeasurable. I had to hit the top of the clock a number of times before I could get it to shut the fuck up.

Catching our breaths, we both acknowledged the aching desire to just go back to sleep.

Alas, there were ailing patients to attend to and piles of paper to push. The warm stimulus of the shower offered some consolation, and the promise of a good-sized cup of coffee also helped allay the consequence of our all-night revelry.

Once again, we had marked the passing of time with an exuberant embrace of one of life’s simplest, yet greatest, pleasures.

Once again, youthful vigor usurped age and reason.

Once again, I am elated to suffer utter exhaustion—for it is a small price to pay for the exhilarating experience of feeling 25 years younger.


“Youth is when you're allowed to stay up late on New Year's Eve. Middle age is when you're forced to.”
— Bill Vaughn —