I had to have new front brakes put on my vehicle last week. At 60,000 miles and still the original brakes, it was time to replace them.  They tell me the rear brakes have about 4000 more miles of wear left on them.  I'm riding those babies till I crash into the auto zone car repair place when trying to drop the car off for the rear brake job.

I hate that stuff wears out.  At some point in the life of most vehicles, barring those that are collectible vehicles, replacing parts and pieces becomes not feasible.  The car passes an age point where the body can't withstand any more use even with newer parts in the engine.  I hate that my 35 year old Maytag washer and dryer, that still worked ok but leaked just a tad, weren't worth fixing any interior parts any more.  They weren't even worth moving across the country in the moving truck because they were already far past the end of their natural lifespan.  Good usable things get old.  They get wore out.  They enter into a put-out-to-pasture status.  

The only time I never hated when something wore out was when my parents bought my shoes for me at Sears.  In that particular instance I tried to hasten the quick demise of the ugliest pair of brown shoes you had ever seen in your life.  I put those shoes on and purposefully ran across gravel, concrete or anything else that might destroy them post-haste while dragging my toes firmly as I went!  I do so hate Sears to this day.

I don't like when my Bandolino pointed toe heels get scraped on the toes and the point gets worn down.  I then need to purchase new ones but can't find that same style any longer.  I'm sad when my running shoes get worn out and it's time for a new pair.  When my favorite underwear starts to fall apart and I can't find the same ones but in new form in the store, I get panicked.  When my favorite set of sheets begins to get thinner and thinner from use and washings, it's time to take out a small loan to buy a new set of 100% cotton ones.  I don't want new ones, I like my old ones it's just that they are at the end of their natural life span.  They have endured night after night, wash after wash.  They got nothing left to give.  They move from bed sheets to sheets I use as paint drop sheets.

I can see glimpses of that in my body presently.  Did I not take good care of it?  My Aunt says that stuff inside us just starts to wear out with age.  She is 80 so I think she would know.  She also mentioned, much like my washer and dryer or my running shoes, bodies are only meant for a certain span of years.  She says it makes her mad sometimes that stuff just is wearing out and that there is nothing you can do about it.

How is it that I can run to get the physical outward and inward benefits of it, but as I age it also creates hurt and sore muscles, tightened hamstrings and other various things that go ouch on me?  My body is wearing out from age and usage.   Which reminds me of the Slinky I had as kid.  When I first took it out of the box it was new and shiny and all the accordion sections compressed perfectly into the next.  But, after a relatively short amount of uses from atop a set of stairs it would get tangled, mangled, twisted and eventually not usable.

If you've ever seen photographs from the Great Depression era it is a great visual of things and people just being worn out.  They looked whipped.  Their possessions looked decrepit and in need of replacing.  Their clothes were thin and thread barren.  Their expressions looked like life had worn them down.  

Circumstances and emotions can wear us down too.  To be worn out, worn down, means we just don't have much in us anymore.  What was once much is now thin, just a little and wearing out.  I'm not overly fond of worn out no matter what it pertains to - Slinkys or my Aunt Dee.

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