“The sluggard waits till afternoon.”

“The sluggard waits till afternoon.” The Saga of Magnus the Good

I am 52-years-old. 53 next month.

I’m well past the halfway point on my earthly journey. The odds say I’ve got less in front of me than I do behind me.

No matter where any of us are right now on our journeys I want us all to ponder the fact, not opinion, but fact that this is likely the best physical version of you you’re going to experience.

Look down the road at folks further along in the journey, be that folks like me in their 50s, or those in their 60s, or 70s or beyond.

Have a look at the inevitable slowing down, the hitch in the step, the infirm hand that many of us can expect to experience. And that is assuming we dodge the cancer bullet, the debilitating malady lottery that will cut many of our journeys even shorter.

Look at everyone of your elder sojourners. Even if they played the game well and recived a bit of good fortune along the way and are robust for their age, they are still merely doing well for their age.

Healthy at 52 is good fortune and I am mighty grateful for that, but I will never mistake it for healthy at 21 or 31, et cetera.

Simmering in the knowledge that we are all in inevitable perpetual decline, how many plans, goals, dreams, “one of these days” are we kicking down the road?

How many deeds and dreams are we asking an old and possibly infirm person to enjoy?

Today is the youngest you will ever be again, whether that is 52, 22, or 82.

Morning has passed for all of us.

We are in our noontimes.

Do not assign your dreams to an elder presumably more ambitious version of yourself in the afternoon of your life.

"Í dag er núna. Takið æsku þína. "

“Today is now. Seize your youth.”