It pleases me when I'm out and about and receive a compliment about last week's column. What's not so pleasing and sometimes a bit embarrassing is when I have to ask, "Which column are we talking about?"

That happens a lot.My schedule is such that I have to work well in advance. The article you read on a Saturday I probably proofread and put to bed three or four weeks before that.And since that time, I've probably written another two or three columns and researched two or three other topics. You can understand then why it's difficult at times for me to remember which article just appeared in print.But needing to ask that question still bothers me, so I often supply an explanation similar to the one I've just written out as well as reveal the number of Fitness Master columns in print so far.You're reading No. 1444.The last time I gave the number, I was asked: "How long can you go on?"Without hesitation, I replied, "Forever."No, I'm not so delusional to think that my healthy lifestyle will lead to everlasting life. It's the new developments in the health-and-fitness field that are never-ending.But what I like best is when I decide that those new developments do not matter much to you. Then I get a chance to put into practice what the religious writer Hannah More penned about 200 years ago: "The world does not have to be as much instructed as reminded."I especially enjoy writing "reminder" columns because of how much they help me.Recently, I was feeling a little low because my body wasn't always responding well during the second day of two long and hard bicycle rides. Years ago, I could go all-out on a Saturday and if I rested and ate properly in between, I could ride just as long and hard on a Sunday.In fact, a number of my best races have occurred on a Sunday after racing on a Saturday. But the phrase I was conveniently forgetting in all of this was "years ago."Listening to "The Miracle of Mindfulness," a lecture by Thich Nhat Hanh I've listened to so often that I know parts by heart, however, reminded me of something I thought I learned long ago.That I am of the nature to grow old and die. That everyone I love will grow old and die, too.I used to meditate on that because I thought it was the best way to prepare for the loss of loved ones. And I was right.When my mother passed just more than 10 years ago, my father and my brother were a mess. Somebody needed to be strong, think clearly, and move the family forward.I was able to do that, and I attributed that to my prior meditation.But even though I heard those words in my head hundreds of times, I never really focused on the fact that I myself was getting old. At the time of my mother's death, in fact, it didn't seem to be occurring athletically.Since I started racing bicycles at a relatively late age, I kept improving even into my late 40s. Additionally, my loss of strength in the weight room in my 40s was intentional.To excel at the riding I did best, climbing hills and the longer the better, I couldn't carry as much upper body muscle mass as I did before the racing bug really bit me.As a result, I limited my calories, handled less weight for more repetitions, and watched my weight - along with my strength - drop significantly.When I hit my middle 50s, I felt I was losing too much muscle mass. Trying to add some, however, was far more difficult than when I intentionally added some in my late 20s and early 30s, which was definitely disheartening.Compounding my less-than-optimal mental state was the situation already explained: I was getting out on the bike on too many Sundays - not every one, mind you, but too many for my liking - knowing that a hard effort was simply not going to happen.To say I felt a sense of resentment would be appropriate. Here I am, I thought, doing everything humanly possible to lead a healthy existence, and yet I still couldn't be guaranteed of adding just a bit of muscle or stringing two intense bike rides together.Because I felt a quotation from "The Miracle of Mindfulness" could be useful in an eventual article about sleep, I listened to it once again and heard something I had heard at least 50 times before: that no one escapes the inevitable decline of aging and that the enlightened person makes peace with that.I needed such a reminder.As a result, I'm now doing my best to accept my sometimes-erratic athletic performance and sharing such a story to move you to consciously do what I did luckily.Remind yourself frequently of the things that matter most.