If you want to avoid thinking about Death, the inevitable end of this circus called Life, Florida is perhaps not the best place to visit.
Out for my daily morning walk back home in Maine I might see a handful of people. But here in Florida I see dozens, if not hundreds, of like-minded people who are out fighting the good fight, getting their hearts pumping and blood flowing, hoping to extend their good health. Most of them are senior citizens. And despite their valiant efforts, colorful spandex tights and day-glo running shoes, the lion's share of them seem to be losing the battle.
Since all of the aging walkers are my peers, I notice I feel older here. Out on the beach or around the hotel pool, the sagging skin and assertive paunches are much more visible in skimpy bathing suits than the more forgiving L.L. Bean attire I'm used to. Meanwhile, all the young people playing volleyball on the beach in skimpy bikinis look even younger here than they do in Maine.
To be honest, a Florida vacation is not for sissies.
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