My hip hurts. Not all the time but lately when I get up in the morning, the left one is sore and it takes a while to work it out. When I sleep on my left side it also hurts and I have to flip over. I run a little which probably isn’t good for it because it’s always worse after. I’m 39 but most people think I’m younger. While bartending the other night, some jerk that didn’t look much older than me actually called me “Tiger”. When I was in my early thirties, people would guess my age to be mid twenties. I would often brag about that. Recently someone actually guessed my exact age and I got a little offended. “Try again,” I said.
My Labrador Frank and I are about the same age. In dog years he’s five-ish which makes him around 35 in human years. Not long ago, when we went to the dog park I would open the gate and he’d bolt through at a full sprint, daring any and all comers to chase him. When a dog races into a dog park it’s an invitation to play and almost all dogs stop whatever they are doing and join the chase. The other dog owners would marvel at Frank’s speed. Sometimes they would even whoop and holler when he’d tear into the park. He’d really get the party started. These days he’s slowed down a bit. He had an ACL injury that took him off his game a little. His surgically repaired knee isn’t as good as the real thing and I can tell he knows that he’s not the fastest kid on the block anymore. He still likes to play chase a little but the younger dogs catch up to him quickly and he quits after just a couple of short laps.
I know how he feels. A friend of mine who, by the way, is fourteen years my junior, invited me to play on his indoor soccer team. I thought, why not? I’m in pretty good shape. I’m not talking the kind of shape where I could run a marathon but if a homicidal maniac escaped from the loony bin and was chasing me, I think I could out run him--especially if he was wielding some sort of heavy weapon like a chain saw or a big axe. Besides, a lot of those psychopaths have some sort of limp or other debilitation that would slow them down a little. Anyway, I’d been a good player in high school so I figured it would be a great way to burn some calories, reduce stress, and get a little competition back in my life. I was right on all accounts but I’m not sure I’ll do it again. For starters, I was so sore after the first game, it literally took me a week to recover. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to play the following week because I was having a hard time walking for several days. It’s really a bitch on the ol’ knees too. The field is essentially old Astro Turf covering hard concrete so you can imagine the toll it takes on your joints. I’ve been lucky enough to never have had knee issues, which is rare. I have friends who have had both knees done which has reduced their options when it comes to sports and heavy duty exercise. After two eight week seasons of indoor I had difficulty standing from a squatting position which is no big deal if you sit behind a desk all day but when you’re a bartender, well, let’s just say it’s no picnic.
Plus, when you get a bunch of old has beens running around in a big box and there is a ball involved, there’s always some jerk that takes it too seriously. You know the guy I’m talking about—he’s a little over weight but still wears the jersey he wore when he wasn’t, so it resembles a sausage casing. He’s got Ace knee braces on both knees and an attitude. He makes up for his physical short comings by yelling at the other members of his team during the game and he high fives a lot. I want to win as much as the next guy, but I’m not pretending that it’s the World Cup finals here pal.
Back in my glory days I could play an entire soccer game without a substitution then ride my bike home barely winded. Now I find myself relating to the guy in the Lipitor commercials. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of these complaining types who has to go to the doc every time his back hurts and it’s all doom and gloom. I’ll be forty in a couple of months which means that I have my whole life to live over again plus a few years hopefully. Aging doesn’t have to be a bad thing--I’m just not sprinting out of the gate like I used to.
