Time marches, not runs, on...

1. Tendonitis of the right foot

2. Immobilizing back spasm

3. Labral tear of the left hip

4. Strained iliosacral muscle

5. Plantar fasciitis

No, this isn’t the injury list of the Yankee’s DL, it’s list of the “sports injuries” I have incurred over the last eighteen months (except for #3, wassup A-Rod!).  I even had to go to the orthopedist, and twice weekly physical therapy for the last two instead of exercising through the pain like I usually do.  What the hell happened?

I got old.

I am used to the slow, but insistent, signs of aging that have crept over my body and face during the last decade.  My hair color is no longer recreational, and my anti-aging creams are no longer preventative.  But this?  To have my body slowly begin giving out on me?  Was a shock.

And it’s not just me.  When I posted on Facebook, looking for local physical therapist recommendations, I received ten suggestions in as many minutes.  When I went to the therapist in New Town, I expected it to be full of doddering old folks, recovering from hip fractures.  There were a few of those.  Among them, the school crossing guard who had mysteriously disappeared in May.  Thank God, because I was afraid he had died of a sudden heart attack, but was telling the kids maybe he went to go live with his grandchildren in Florida.  The crossing guard version of “we sent the dog to a farm”.  But along with Mr. Stevens, were a huge number of people my age recovering from self-induced recreational injuries. This entire generation, has become obsessed with proving their youth with feats of physical strength and endurance, only to kill ourselves in the process.

Will any of these, Iron Mans, Rugged Maniacs, or Marine Corps Marathons ever stop the march of time? Staying fit will improve your quality of life, and probably prolong it, but it won’t bring back your twenties.  And what’s so wrong with aging, anyway?  Why is younger always better?  Yes, youth is further away from death, but it’s closer to the time when you didn’t know who you were or what the hell you were doing.  We need to accept aging as a natural part of life, with all the changes in appearance* and performance that come along with it.  Wouldn’t it be better to embrace a new age bracket and be the best version of your current self, than pathetically cling to your old demographic?  And that’s not to say you stop working out and, buy elastic waist pants and comfort shoes, but perhaps stop trying so hard.  Like, so hard, you wind up needing hip surgery.**

It’s surprising how aging creeps up on you.  One minute you’re a semi-attractive young, new mom, the next, you’re standing at your youngest child's pre-school pick-up with women young enough to look like your daughter.  Did you really think you'd stay young forever?  You can't and you won't.  Have a drink and accept it.

Even though you can outrun those moms, you can't outrun Father Time.

*See also: Botox and facial fillers

**Which, had physical therapy not worked, would have rendered me unable to even bear weight on the repaired hip for six weeks.  Other than the very real possibility of my being institutionalized not being able to work out some of my manic energy, how would I possibly care for three children?  The smug Physician's Assistant at my, otherwise wonderful, orthopedist's office said, "lean on the good leg while you pack the lunch boxes."  I almost said, "Now I understand why your only a Physician's Assistant."