A friend of mine asked me: What is middle age?

I shook my head. Child, child, child, such an ugly question!

But I knew the answer: Middle age is the point of no return.

It's not that you were going to change course, it was just that it used to be easier to have unfettered daydreams — and let's be real here, everyone has those thoughts from time to time.

Instead, you have kids thinking about college educations that you're supposed to fund.

You have monthly bills lining the horizon like a monster debt set at Waimea Bay.

And you've got two letters from AARP that you have no desire to open.

Let your mind wander all you want, but every one of your fantasies needs to be scaled back.

That cute blonde in the line at Starbucks? Brother, even her mother is out of reach.

Thought you could still find a personal best the next time you laced up your running shoes? Hey Nike, I got a new motto: Just finish.

And so it was that middle age arrived for me. Happy Birthday, blah, blah, blah. Ugh, 50, I hate you.

Beware of this milestone.

When you turn 50, people will try to console you, but they're misguided. They wince in mock sympathy as they remind you about colonoscopies and ED.

It's as if every well-oiled piston in your body was about to seize up. Dead man walking!

After someone told me that 50 is the new 30, I felt sorry for everyone who's 30. I looked at myself in the mirror — it happened to be on the blessed day of my birth — and tried to assess the damage.

My vision was blurry if I looked too closely.

My skin was wrinkly if I looked too hard.

And if I examined myself in profile, which was a bad idea, I could only think of two words: core failure.

But there's more than one way to skin an old cat. (Hey, when you turn 50, you can lecture aimlessly until you reach a conclusion, even if no one is listening.)

So back to middle age.

When I mentioned this to another friend, she sort of scolded me. Plus she said I was scaring her.

It was that whole "glass half full, half empty" thing. I was supposed to think of middle age in terms of status. I should consider myself wiser at 50, even though I really didn't think that's the case. I still can't balance a checkbook.

The lesson was to quit looking in life's rear-view mirror, panic less and enjoy the quiet moments.

OK. I'll try.

Besides, I can always buy larger pants.

Reach Mike Gordon at mgordon@honoluluadvertiser.com.