At the gym this morning, there seemed to be an unusually large number of high school age and college age male athlete types. Most were in extremely good shape, all cocky and muscled up, full of testosterone. As I’m almost 63, it would be easy for me to ponder the follies of aging and get all depressed about the contrasts between them and me. As I thought about this at length, it was with a deeply felt sigh that I concluded, “Man, oh man, am I glad I don’t have to suffer through blue balls anymore!”
