turning thirty-six

by m. werneburg, 2007

This is an outgrowth on my article on turning thirty, which, curiously, proved to be one of my more popular pages.

This year I turned 36. The big 4-0 is clear on the horizon, and if Statistics Canada has it right, I'm nearing—or at—the half-way point in my life. It's one of those "hump" ages, like 26 was.

And where do I find myself on this occasion? Recently married, for a start. This was not, consciously, an age thing. But I think it speaks to a certain state of mind that might have been born from aging. For I now find myself, at long last, with a more patient perspective. And this, I'm told, is a critical ingredient for marriage. I don't know if this newfound patience is due to some quality in my spouse, but I am making fewer of the impatient mistakes I made in the past (with my girlfriends, who I put through the wringer).

A related improvement that I've noticed is that I am not now as worked up about things I can't control. Yes, it still takes a fair bit of waiting to prepare dinner, but I'm no longer wandering back to some half-finished project in the middle of cooking just because I'd rather be reading, carving some wood or tinkering with my novel. I find that I'm still getting things done when it comes to my hobbies, but with the welcome difference that the smoke alarm participates quite a bit less in my food preparation. (Of course, I can't ignore the fact that our current apartment simply doesn't have a smoke alarm).

I've also come to a point where the countless hours I've put into my hobbies is starting to pay off. My principal hobbies are writing and photography. In both of these endeavours I now find myself more interested in sharing my work. In fact, I'm in the process, hopefully, of getting my novel in front of some publishers—a state of affairs that surprises me. I suspect that in part this is due to a certain confidence that I've started to find in the past few years. And it's almost certainly due to a nagging sense that over the years, I've actually completed very little. Again, with 40 on the horizon, there is a certain sense in the back of my mind that the time is ripe. As for my photography, I'm pleased with my recent work and believe that I have finally learned some of the tricks to make that continue to happen.

Career-wise, I've made some recent decisions as to what I want to do next. It's a move away from the technology I've been working with, and towards the business. We'll see what comes of it.

Then there's the volunteering. I've applied for—and won—a volunteer gig with the Canadian embassy to Japan. It's an emergency-services position of "communication and facilitation", and one that involves coordination with the local governments and other embassies. I'm just starting, but it seems like an interesting new challenge. I'm only sorry that it took me so long to get involved. It's something, I think, that I would not have undertaken in previous times in my life.

Physically, I find myself still somewhat fit. In fact, with my near-daily cycling habit, I've managed to shave off a couple of kilos in the past six months. I've also joined a basketball team and even attend the games, if sporadically.

But these were, in part, a reaction to the by-now obvious aging of my body. I'm slowing down. My always-erect posture has adopted an obvious stoop, and an MRI scan this past summer revealed that I've got a pinched nerve in my back due to a misplaced vertabra. That's an old-person's thing. The shoulder injury I sustained in Australia continues to pain me, and it is now obvious that I will never recover.

Then there's the digestive system. All I'll say is that an apple a day has become quite mandatory if I want my guts to operate smoothly. I pay for every deviation from this regimen.

And then there's my circulatory system. In 2003, I waded into the North Atlantic. Never a balmy body of water, the N. Atlantic's cold water showed me the advanced state of disrepair in the blood vessels in my legs and feet. When immersed in cold water, the ravaged blood vessels in my lower legs and feet take on the appearance of a road map of the old quarter of some ancient town on the Mediterranean. Not. Pretty.

I've adopted a regimen for this, too. It consists of near-daily doses of hard liquor. Eh-heh-heh....

In all, 36 has been a motivator. I'm happy, I'm active, and I'm doing what I want, inasmuch as that has been possible. The body is aging, but the mind is coming together. A trade-off I can live with.