Saturday, December 17, 2011

The Older I Get . . .

I remember a day in high school when I ran six miles to the YMCA, lifted weights for two hours, then played one-on-one with Danny for another hour -- I was fine the next day.

After shooting around by myself for half an hour last night, I feel like I should have stayed in bed this morning. This morning, my spouse said, "Did you hurt something?"

I said, "No. Nothing specific. Just my back is sore. And my arms here and here. And my neck doesn't feel good. Also my knees when I bend them or straighten them out. And my back is sore."

"You already said your back was sore."

"Yeah," I said, "but I meant down here the first time, now I'm talking about up here."

I think my glory days are behind me -- or is that, specifically, what glory days are? I guess, in a sense they have to be behind us, otherwise we'd just call them our lives.

Still, I'm planning time for a short maintenance run this evening, but if I end up still feeling this battered, I might just go for a walk. This is actually going to be a tough decision for me, where it would have been easy last week. Since I've started this blog, I feel a greater sense of urgency to run when I say I'm going to -- but I'm also trying to balance the notion of not-over-doing-it, such that I can remain injury free.

It's an awful thing to be responsible for one's own body!

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