The Old Maid

Getting old(er) sucks. I was reminded of this at the gym today. I haven't been to the gym in a while (I've been running outside), so maybe that was part of my jarring return to reality.

While I was working out, there was this teenage girl, maybe about 14 years old, on the treadmill. She was a smaller girl, running along for about 20 minutes. She had skinny little arms and legs, and was wearing cheap sneakers that looked like Keds you'd buy at WalMart. No water bottle, no towel, nothing fancy. All I could think was, "how can she run in shoes like that?" and, "God, I can't even remember when my arms were that skinny." She got off the treadmill and walked away, not sweating too hard, not breathing particularly rough. When I run these days, I sweat like a pig, I breathe hard, my face turns purple, and my ass jiggles. I can feel it jiggle, and I don't even have a big ass! I have NO ass, yet it jiggles with every step! I can't run in fucking Keds - my ankles and knees can't handle it. I have to buy fancy-ass expensive Adidas so I don't strain something. I have to make sure I stretch and drink water, otherwise I can't walk for three days, and I have to ice my knee every time I run. I was elated today when I was able to go down the stairs after my 2 miles without any pain in my knee. I'm only 10 years older than that teenager, but I'm OLD. And that sucks. At the rate I'm going, I'll need a walker by age 30.

Maybe one of the toughest things to accept as we age is the fact that our bodies just aren't as reliable as they once were. We grow up thinking we're invicible... that we can get thrown from a horse and bounce off the ground, or play three games of tackle football without the slightest repercussions. Our bodies are rocks or Hondas - they never break down or change much. But as we get older, they become more like driftwood or Fords - at a certain point they get sanded down to a new shape and start to break down repeatedly with bizarrely expensive necessary repairs. I used to get dragged by frisky yearlings and thrown against fences. With rope burns on my hands and hoofprints on my helmet, I'd get back up and right back on, without a second thought. One day, however, we wake up frighteningly aware of our own mortality and fragility. It's sad and it's sobering to be reminded that it's all downhill from here, so we might as well enjoy it, right? For my part, I have decided to try to run outside where there are fewer teenagers and attempt to avoid their blase youth and vigor for as long as possible...