It”s a sad day in every adult”s life when we realize our body isn”t the same finely tuned machine it used to be.
I remember exactly when it happened to me. I was walking out of my apartment last year when I dropped my keys. I bent to scoop them up and while straightening my body, the unthinkable happened. From somewhere deep inside, a dark place filled with shame and denial, came a guttural sound that only strikes when a person of a certain age goes from crouching to standing. It”s an unmistakable utterance, a grunt simultaneously marking strain and relief.
It forced itself out of my mouth and I involuntarily managed to say “yes” and “no” at the same time as if I were doing my best Tim Allen impression. I”d heard it from my father for years. Getting up from the couch, he would let loose a “YUHH-AHH” that would send the dogs running. He”s a very active man who enjoys everything from windsurfing to skiing but without a proper warm-up, sitting to standing, ground the gears. But not me! Not already! I was thrown into an inconsolable depression.
This unpleasant truth is a biological inevitability. Muscles break down and age will always rear its ugly head, and I am here to tell you, when it rains, it pours. Since that day I have collected a varied assortment of pulls, tears, strains and pains. More upsetting is that these injuries haven”t happened doing anything noble. I strained my back carrying a bag of laundry. I tore my rotator cuff on a Slip ”n Slide. I even pulled my hamstring … stretching my hamstring.
To be clear, my athletic resume isn”t what one might call remarkable. My greatest claim to fame, which I will proudly tell to anyone within earshot, is that I once hit a triple off of Cy Young winner Jake Peavy in Little League. But I”ve always considered myself active and the not-so-subtle changes in my body have left me looking over my now-hairy shoulder for Father Time to take another swipe.
So you can imagine my surprise when I learned that the 2012 Summer Games counts among its participants a 71-year-old man from Japan named Hiroshi Hoketsu. He is competing in his third Olympics at an age most people would rather sit beside the Olympic Flame than light it. Granted, he competed in Individual Dressage, also known as “Horse Ballet,” but it is an awfully inspiring feat. Mr. Hoketsu”s story made me realize there are certain things in life better mastered with experience than with, say, the ability to kiss your own heels.
Tactical expertise and flawless technique are paramount in many sports. This is why I will never beat my father at pool. It”s why goalies are often the oldest players on the field and why, at the advanced age of 40, Brett Favre was able to lead his team to an NFC championship game. At some point, in some things, experience outweighs physical ability and knowing the perfect angle of approach is a huge advantage.
So it is with that in mind that I push headlong into adulthood and focus more on the positives that come with aging. For example, I now know that the first place I gain weight is my nipples. I can use this information to help with dietary responsibility. “Would I like another cupcake? No thanks. It”ll go straight to my nipples.” You”d be surprised how effective that can be. They seldom offer twice. And while I”m still years away from black socks and sandals, I now know better than to ever set foot on a Slip ”n Slide again. The name alone proves too prophetic.
Silver linings, folks. Silver linings.
