Bikram Vohra
JournalismPakistan.com
May 2, 2015

My daughter and son-in-law ran 10 kilometres in a night cross country with 500 other people. They bought nightlights, first aid kits, special running shoes and even though she fell and injured herself near the end they had a blast. They came home flushed with youth and ate a full Chinese dinner.

No one thought to invite me. It’s not as if I am 67 or something. Over the hill. I am a sprightly 66 and no one thought to invite me.

There I was, all set and ready to give it the old college try but no one thought to invite me.

Just the other day I climbed to 24,000 feet, covered a war, investigated an air crash, played five hours of squash right after an all-night party and did a thousand things I’ll never do again.

Like run the 400 meters. Be on a rope in a frozen wasteland. Volunteer cheerfully to go to the Antarctic. Go five rounds with gloves on. When did time steal away into the night like a thief.

And though no one thought to invite me I wrote them a message about having a great time and I’ll see them at the tavern called ‘What used to be.’

The spirit is willing, I could sense the freedom of pounding up the hills, exult in it, the wind fresh and clean and the zing in the adrenalin surge and the exquisite agony of pushing yourself that one extra mile.

It’s the body that says, hold it, mister, those were the days, now you are older and much wiser.

I don’t know about the wiser but no one thought to invite me.

Phew, what a relief.

(The writer is a Senior Editorial Advisor of Khaleej Times and the paper’s former Editor. He has also been the Editor of Gulf News, Gulf Today, Emirates Today and Bahrain Tribune)