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I’ve been boring the pants off everyone I know for the past two seasons about how I’m going to retire from Saturday league football. Part of the reason for that is that I haven’t really enjoyed my football recently, and I’m finding running a lot more enjoyable. Also, I run when I want or when I have time, whereas my football time is dictated by the fixture list.

That said, in the past month or so, I’ve been playing at a higher standard and the challenge has been really enjoyable. It’s great having better players around me but it’s also great having opponents that demand a higher level of concentration. The results have been better, too, so the grind of weekly defeat contributing to my dark moods has abated. Even the defeats are more enjoyable, which is weird.

Going against all that, I played in a veterans’ game this morning and enjoyed it so much. In the veterans world, I’m a youngster (our vets’ team starts at 35, some other leagues start at 40 years old), which means that I’m at a fairly high level of fitness compared to a lot of people on the pitch as well as suddenly looking like I’ve got a fair amount of pace. So I’m more relaxed on the pitch which contributes to me playing better and therefore enjoying it so much more, even though the standard isn’t as high as the normal Saturday game.

Contradictory, moi?

I’m still undecided on my retirement date anyway. The sports masseur I saw the other week convinced me that I was focused too much on my age as a deciding factor and I should listen to my body. Right now, my body’s giving me mixed messages…

Post title lyric taken from The Beatles – When I’m Sixty-Four, but quite frankly you should be ashamed if you didn’t know that.