Forty Plus Motorbiking and Running (Away)

Few decades back, people would just begin to build a house, or plan a foreign vacation or buy a big car around the time they turned forty. This has now galloped backwards to the twenties. You are done and dusted with all these pretty early. The result: you are twiddling your thumbs at forty. It feels like sixty already. It’s BORING!

There’s hope – at least, old people get respect. But, those who have to give that respect have disappeared. There are no servile, grinning ‘juniors’ offering to carry your bag or fetch you coffee at office. They have been replaced by headphone-secured, gum-chewing Gen Y kids whose most vital goal is to make you feel like you are 100 years old. That is when you go buy yourself a Harley, or at least, a Bullet and a leather jacket. Now, you look both old and stupid.
Yes. And, that’s how the BIKER is born….

Seeking thrill becomes your singular objective. But, there are only so many times that you can party, or fantasize start-up ideas or go to Thailand with the ‘boys’! So, what do you do at forty? Not all become entrepreneurs or go biking in Leh. They don’t have the wife’s permission. Their sphere of influence is limited to where to buy the bhindi from, as long as she determines the quantity, size and the exact shade of green.

What do you do at forty? Other than getting drunk every weekend and threatening to quit your job to become a farmer? You already have a house, and another one on rent. You have two cars. You have a holiday time-share. You even have life insurance. And it’s not that you are going to jump to an entirely league and get yourself a yacht and a mistress. Where will you keep them?

So, basically you are stuck right here, in this very league, that is beginning to stink. You need some freshness. You want new. You wonder if you should be a foodie/food blogger. How about an amateur photographer? Or a musician. But, all of these cost money. You are at your wit’s end. You want to run away from it all. Wait, did someone say ‘run’?

Yes, and thats how the MARATHON RUNNER is born …..

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