Howdy again, friends, family, fiends, foes, and all you funky folks!

If you’re like me, you’ve probably looked in the mirror more than once, scratched your head, and thought, Will my body ever let me do the fun stuff I used to do, and what happened to me? Being 66 comes with a lot of perks: wisdom, experience, and a well-stocked tool box of stories to tell. But then there’s the looming, not-so-little issue of the ol’ body not bouncing back at all the way it used to. The mind’s raring to go, and the spirit’s ready to soar, but the body…well, let’s just say it’s going to hurt me until I get over it. (And my recoup time is getting longer and longer, if at all.)

Take, for instance, my lifelong love for bowling. A few decades ago, I’d hit the lanes like the great Dick Weber, throwing strikes, and picking up spares like it was no problem at all. Now, if I even think about bowling more than a couple of games, my shoulder sends me a reminder the next morning that I am indeed past my “youthful prime.” But I still love it. The social side, the skill, the thrill of nailing that perfect strike — it’s all dynamite. It’s just a bit more of a problem now. So, let me try to work out what it’s like balancing all the things we love with bodies that, frankly, have their own limits.

My Bowling Problem

Bowling isn’t just a sport; it’s a piece of rock ‘n roll history for me. I used to walk up to the line like good old Earl Anthony, knowing my moves, ready to rock the pins down. Fast forward to age 66, and every swing feels like I’m negotiating a nuclear treaty with my shoulder. Are we doing this, or are we not? If I bowl with too much enthusiasm, there’s a good chance my shoulder’s going to start singing its own blues tune. I’ve had to learn to pace myself, maybe stick to two or three games, and remind myself that I need to take it easier, maybe even move down to a 15 lb. ball instead of my standard 16 lb-er.

Dirt Biking (Former) Dreams

Now, let’s talk about dirt biking. Oh, the thrill of kicking up dust, wind in my face, tires gripping the earth — pure freedom! But at 66, the stakes are a little higher. One spill could mean weeks of ice packs, heating pads, and that intense feeling of “why did I think this was a good idea?” But hey, that thrill’s still there. Now, I approach it more cautiously, probably with more protective gear than I would’ve used in my 20s. And you know what? Sometimes it’s just as enjoyable taking a slow, scenic ride through the desert trails than tearing it up like I used to. In other words, “cow trailing” instead of motocross racing. I still like it, though. I keep thinking that I could get a street bike and enjoy a ride up into the mountains, but I remember what an experienced biker told me, “In the woods or trails you may break a bone, if it goes wrong. If it goes wrong on the street, you die.” So, I have forgotten about that, too. Maybe I should stick to my classic cars, like my old red 72’ Coupe De Ville.

A Round of Golf, Anyone?

Golf was never my thing, hit it, chase it, naw. It is one of those sports where the body isn’t exactly put through a marathon, so I tried it a few weeks ago, but there were my knees telling me they would get me later, and they did. I used to be able to swing without a second thought. Nowadays, that twist and torque can make my back scream Axel Rose at his audition for Guns ‘N Roses. But the beauty of golf is that it can be as relaxing or intense as you make it. These days, I try to play for the fun of it, enjoying the outdoors, the camaraderie, and of course, the chance to unleash my classic “Dean-isms” on unsuspecting players. Sure, I don’t drive the ball very far, but I’m still out there with friends, and that’s what counts.

Hiking in the Heat (Not Really Brilliant)

Arizona has some truly breathtaking trails, and I like a good hike to reconnect with nature. But let’s be real: hiking at 66 can feel a bit more like a chore from hell than a leisurely stroll. I remember when I’d take off on a trail with hardly any supplies, confident I’d be back in a jiffy. Now, I’m packing water, snacks, walking sticks, and probably checking my watch every half hour to make sure I’m still on track. And the Arizona heat? It feels about ten times hotter than it did when I first moved here 33 years ago. But there’s something amazing about reaching the top of the Windcave trail, knowing you pushed through and still got that spark for adventure.

The Balancing Act

So, can I still do the things I love? Absolutely! But I’ve had to become a master at the balancing act. It’s about respecting my body’s limits without letting them define my life. I might not be the wild child I once was, thanks to my wife’s insistence that I take it easier, but I’m still out there, a bit, keeping my passions alive, just with a bit more care and a lot more wisdom.

I’ve learned that sometimes, pushing through pain isn’t the answer. Taking things a little slower, listening to your body, and — dare I say — stretching more than I used to has become essential. Just because I’m not doing 20-mile hikes or tearing up a dirt bike track like a young rebel doesn’t mean I’m not living my best life.

Finding New Ways to Move

One of the best things I’ve discovered is adapting to lower-impact activities. Swimming, for instance, has been a revelation. It’s a workout that doesn’t put the same strain on my joints and actually helps keep me flexible. Biking on easier trails rather than motocross tracks also gives me that two-wheeled thrill without as much risk. And no, I’ve not even started dabbling in some yoga. Don’t laugh — I just can’t see me being a human pretzel.

Dean-ism: I should have never eaten Rice Krispies when I was a kid, now every time I move, it’s SNAP, CRACKLE AND POP for my joints.

Laughing It Off

At the end of the day, a good sense of humor is probably the best medicine. I’m 66, and sure, things creak, pop, and groan a bit more than they used to. But hey, if I can’t laugh at it, what’s the point? I still find ways to throw in a “Dean-ism” or two about aging when I’m around friends. Turns out, we’re all in the same leaky, creaking boat, trying to figure out how to keep doing the things we love without breaking anything in the process.

Dean-ism: (stolen blatantly from Rodney Dangerfield) “I know I am getting older, I passed a cemetery yesterday and 2 guys with shovels chased me!”

Wrapping It Up

So, will my body ever allow me to do all the fun, recreational things I want to, at 66? Maybe not in the exact same way I used to, but it’s still letting me live out some of the best parts. I’ve learned to approach each activity with a little more care, a bit of caution, and a heaping helping of gratitude. Life at this age isn’t about giving up; it’s about adjusting, adapting, and finding joy in new ways.

And hey, if you see an older guy in the bowling alley with an ice pack on his shoulder, or cruising a dirt trail at a snail’s pace, give him a wave — it just might be me, still out there, refusing to let a few aches and pains keep me from the things I love.

Email me! deanbensonrocks@gmail.com

Dean Benson, “The Dean Of Rock & Roll” SKY7music.com middays on the “Only Classic Rock Channel”. Also see more of my writing at: https://stan.store/DeanBensonRocks