Hear me out...A taste of mortality

Adult recreation league sports are a great way to get some exercise, and for the competitive individuals out there, it’s another outlet to satisfy the competitive itch. Sure, the games don’t have the same meaning as they did in high school or college but getting to know people and becoming integrated within in the community are great benefits.

I play in rec league sports like coed softball, basketball and men’s softball. They’re a blast, and I’ve come to know more people through playing in these leagues than work or through a mutual friend.

There’s only one downside to rec league sports, and truthfully it’s a personal issue mixed with a first-world problem. The downside is the experiencing the slow death of your athleticism, and I use that word liberally.

I will be turning 29 this year, and I’ve noticed just the smallest of differences in my athleticism. (This might be my new favorite joke.) There are pop flies that are harder to catch and driving lanes seem to collapse much faster now.

Warming up before a game once seemed pointless and often I’d go through the motions. Now, it has become a necessity, in fact, if I don’t get a warm up in I’m a little nervous for the game. I treated stretching the same way as warming up, never worried about it and went through the motions. Now, it’s a must if I haven’t had a good stretch in I can feel my body start to tighten up and cross my fingers I don’t hear a pop.

Before my athleticism (This won’t be getting old anytime soon) started sliding backward, I looked at Icy Hot, and other ointments in the same vein, as futile. I’ve been sore and have had aches and pains before but never to the point I was running to the tube of Icy Hot. I still don’t reach for the Icy Hot, but I definitely get it now. After a game, I used to be sore for less than 24 hours. Now, I’m sore for a good chunk of the week. It’s as if each muscle is exacting its revenge like the serial killer of a cheesy B-rated slasher saying, “Remember me.” The next morning I wake up feeling like rebar has replaced my bones, making me the lamest version of Wolverine ever.

Around 25-ish I accepted, death would be a reality at some point between 80-100 years from now; come on medical research industry let’s bump up that life expectancy! The acceptance of mortality was a big step, and I thought I’d have another 5-6 year until I had that first taste. It’s been less than four years, and man is the first taste of mortality bitter.

Here’s the thing and what I am hoping is a silver lining, I haven’t been in shape since high school which was ten, now I’m super bummed out, years ago. Powering through that realization, there’s still time to right the ship and wring whatever athleticism there is left. (Now that’s the last one.)

I’ve never been a huge health nut and more than likely never will, but instead of trying to eat my weight in burgers this Fourth of July Weekend I’ll have one burger but only after taking a hike, or two, and enjoying the natural beauty of the Big Horns. It’s not a quick fix but a step in the right direction to extending my athletic prime. (I lied…had to get one more.)