This morning, Life in the Boomer Lane was momentarily distracted from the disturbing realization that she was out of unsweetened soy milk, by a loud banging on the front door. Coffee cup in hand, she came to the door to see her sweaty, panting across-the-street neighbor standing on her front porch. The neighbor, who we shall call Linda because that is her name, had just finished her daily training for an impending triathlon.
LBL was reminded that the last time, she, herself, was in such a panting, sweaty state was in 1968 and she was backstage at the Newport Folk Festival, in a van with one of the members of the sound crew. Shaking herself from this Stoned Soul Picnic reverie, she fast-forwarded to the present, in which she immediately realized two things: One was that she was still out of unsweetened soy milk. The other was that during the last 5-10 years, more and more boomer women were suddenly competing in triathlons.
In past years, the entry into menopause dovetailed with a deep psychic need to become a “master gardener.” LBL still isn’t sure what this term means but she imagined a post-50, spade-wielding Obi Wan Kinobe, festooned with LL Bean rubber boots and canvas gloves. The garden had morphed from something pretty to look at to the fulfillment of all human desire. But, just as she acclimated herself to hearing her friends speak in rapturous terms about being able to spend entire weekends digging in the dirt while they attempted to avoid sunstroke, LBL realized that other forms of enlightenment were starting to encroach.
First it was yoga: Bikram, Astanga, Hatha, Kundalini, Yin, Yang. Yoga had developed as many methods and techniques as Kama Sutran sex. After all the possible schools of yoga were covered, it was time to focus on the temperature of the room. Along came hot yoga, allowing one to place oneself in such a position as to be able to see one’s own buttocks sweating. Women said yoga centered them, caused them to be at peace with themselves and the world. They walked around in a permanent state of zen. And, because this zen-like state required a new type of wardrobe, Lululemon stock soared.
But yoga and daily forays into the gym turned out to not be the brass ring of human endeavor. Enter the world of the triathlon, allowing boomer women to experience a joy that, until recently, was reserved for testosterone-impacted male Olympians. Swimming, running, and biking have now became one of the basic triads of life, along with food/clothing/shelter, the father/the son/the holy ghost/ and Manny/Moe/and Jack. Weeds rapidly took over no-longer-manicured gardens, while Grandmas began to request bicycle aerobars and Ironman activity bands for Christmas. Master gardeners had become master triathletes. Muscles popped, while roses wilted.
There doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. LBL envisions the day when there will be yoga/triathlon competitions, in which boomers can alternate between the running/swimming/biking phases and even more strenuous aerobic-acrobatic yoga routines. Rounding that out will be an optional live bear-wrestling event. Judges will be a combination of Cirq du Soleil cast members and pit bull trainers.
LBL will watch it all from the sidelines, sipping her unsweetened soy milk-whitened coffee. She takes advantage of both ends of the spectrum. When people ask why her garden has so many weeds, she tells them she is too busy training for a triathlon. When she is asked why she doesn’t compete in triathlons, she tells them she is too busy with her gardening. When they asked why she puts unsweetened soy milk in her coffee, she tells them to mind their own business.
katecrimmins
September 16, 2014
You nailed it with this one! Yes, I remember the master gardener stage. I thought about doing that for at least 2 nanoseconds. Then the yoga — heck, I didn’t even think about looking at my privates in odd positions. I did enough of that while I was young. I am waiting for the new thing to be consuming margaritas with umbrellas in them on the beach. I will be in first place. Ill save a chair for you!
Life in the Boomer Lane
September 21, 2014
I’ll be there.
menomama3
September 16, 2014
Oh. God. Barf. Who ARE these people anyway? Enjoying my capacious belly and my jiggly arms AND my coffee with lactose free milk which keeps me from farting as I walk, not run,
Life in the Boomer Lane
September 21, 2014
My idea of a triathlon is drinking coffee/reading/shopping. Are those held anywhere?
Deena F. Greenberg
September 16, 2014
Great post! If I had any unsweetened soy milk, I’d offer to lend you a cup, but I use real milk. Who says non-triathlon competitors don’t like to live dangerously?
Life in the Boomer Lane
October 3, 2014
I seriously like your attitude.
Seeing Clarely
September 16, 2014
I was wondered EXACTLY that, when I reached the last line and shut my mouth.
Life in the Boomer Lane
September 21, 2014
And here’s the answer: I don’t like sweet coffee. No way, no how. Regular soy milk has sugar in it. Yeech.
Frugal Hausfrau
September 17, 2014
Such a shame that being Matronly seems to have gone out of fashion – oh for the good old days when one was able to earn respect based on sheer size, a quavering voice laced with conviction and a certain look given from behind half eye-glasses…
Life in the Boomer Lane
October 3, 2014
I’m laughing and relating.
btg5885
September 17, 2014
Now, if we could get the bear to do yoga in a hot room, you would not need to wrestle it. I would have written more, but have to train for a marathon. :>)
Life in the Boomer Lane
September 21, 2014
Do reading marathons count?
Deborah Drucker
September 17, 2014
God, I’m exhausted. But I wish I had thighs like the lady in your featured image 😦 She looks like she had 0.1% body fat too. Sigh. Oh well. I say the same thing as you..”no aerobic yoga for me.” I would injure myself.
Life in the Boomer Lane
September 21, 2014
I want her fitness level without doing the actual fitness. Maybe I’d like to experience one day like that. Just one.
janeydoe57
September 17, 2014
(Bowing repeatedly): I’m not worthy! Damn it, now I’m going to have to change my tagline; LBL is much better at talking about herself in the third person!
Kudos for laying out the direction THIS 50-something will not be taking any time soon! 😉
Life in the Boomer Lane
October 3, 2014
You are welcome, Janey. I can’t remember when and why the third person thing started. But it helps me lighten up.
ammaponders
September 17, 2014
I don’t like to sweat. That takes care of gardening and the triathlon. And hot yoga, too. I do better with fewer choices.
Life in the Boomer Lane
September 21, 2014
That’s a real problem. Although you could try gardening in winter.
dorannrule
September 18, 2014
Oh, I definitely must join Master Gardeners now or lie about it since I don’t like to sweat either.! Yoga makes my entire body cramp into unsightly positions, but I can claim I’m training for a triathalon or too busy gardening when people ask me what I do to keep busy. 🙂 Love this hilarious post! But don’t ask me why the only milk I drink is goat’s milk.
Life in the Boomer Lane
October 3, 2014
I won’t ask you, Dorann. I can relate to the cramping thing, even without exercise. Lately, I’ve had a couple cramping episodes when I was driving. I can see the headlines: Post-menopausal Woman Runs Off the Road for No Reason Whatsoever.” and the sub-heading: “Yoga Clothes Not in Evidence.”
Stuart M. Perkins
September 20, 2014
Loved it!
Life in the Boomer Lane
September 21, 2014
I get cramps also. It’s ridiculous. Also stomach aches. I won’t ask you about the milk. These things are private.
Anonymous
October 7, 2014
Is there a word for fear of old age?
Life in the Boomer Lane
October 7, 2014
I don’t know, only that a lot of people have it.
britishkitchenwitch
February 7, 2017
I just love everything about the way you write. As I totter into menopause with my garden trowel firmly clutched in my hot-flash, sweaty hands, and my unrolled yoga mat already a family joke, I laughed very hard at this.
Life in the Boomer Lane
February 7, 2017
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Sarah. I don’t participate in a post-menopausal love of gardening, and yoga simply puts me to sleep. I joined a gym 42 years ago, and Then Husband told me I’d never stay with it. Forty-two years later, I’m still proving him wrong. That might be the only reason I keep going. Whatever works, right?
iiLing
June 28, 2020
Thank you for the humour! Love the way you write.
Life in the Boomer Lane
June 29, 2020
Thanks, and thanks for reading!