Ageing toward the average

Perhaps it's more about weight than age.
There seems to be a time in a man's life where he gains weight; more than he's able to shuck through a youthful metabolism, a semi-active lifestyle or a morning constitution (and by constitution I mean BM-I have a great story about Battle Mountain, Nevada and the American past time of city names on hillsides). Maybe it's less exercise, maybe it's more calories consumed, maybe it's both.

I have this job where I sit behind a desk, type at a computer, push paper around and then leave after 8 hours. Sure I get up from my desk a few times an hour for various work-related activities but mostly I sit.
Now, I'm great at sitting, a world-class sitter with gluteus muscles molded and shaped for extreme sitting. This activity, however, is not conducive to physical fitness.
Sometimes I run. Sometimes I ride my bicycle. Sometimes I do both in the same week (a real fitness addict, I know). I walk to the train and from the train to work and back each day- 1.5km total.
Eating is different. I eat every day, several times a day. I like eating. I like eating more than exercising and it's beginning to show.
My waist is a little bigger than I remember and my pants allow for. My posture isn't as straight. I get winded rather easy and recovering from illnesses takes longer than it used to.

I'm becoming the average 30 something north American male.

I'm not comfortable with this species. I don't identify with him and in many ways I resent him. I don't like averages in any way, to be frank. I was an average student, grew up in an average town and had an average upbringing. All these combined to teach me that being average was just fine. I have learned that unless we're talking about determining the average for the sake of a statistic, average is bad.
Average is rarely rewarded, goes by unnoticed, merely meets expectations and is, by definition, a signifier of the majority.
I don't know this group. I'm not interested in average anything (except maybe pistachios and cashews, the average nut is delicious). Furthermore, my dad was the average age and gender of someone with the type of cancer he had.
Averages can tell us many useful things about other things and stuff average deals with vagueries and generalities. Boring. Lame. Predictable. Disappointing.
Average, I defy you and the fog of mediocrity you perpetuate. You are peanut and jelly sandwiches, vanilla ice cream, grey 4 door sedans, white sneakers and serial novels for transit users. You bore me and insult me with your expectation that we're friends or even acquaintances. I know your kind and you stink with apathy and ennui. Average, get away from me and my family and stay off my lawn.