Recently, I discovered that I’ve been lying about my age. My wife pointed this out to me when I made a reference to how old I was. The funny thing is, while most people change their age to a younger version, I had been telling people I was actually older than I really am!
I’m 45 years old right now. I had been telling others I was 46. The reason for this had to do with the changing of the calendar. Perhaps when 2019 went up, I kept thinking that since I was born in 1973, I must now be 46, even if my birthday isn’t until September.
Aging is a funny thing. When you’re young, you can’t wait to get older. Every birthday is something you look forward to for months in advance. Those milestone birthdays really stand out: becoming a teenager, being able to drive, arriving at legal adulthood, and something about turning 21 as well.
I’m not sure when we stop looking forward to birthdays; it’s likely different for everyone. When we’re young, we look at anybody 30 or older as being frightfully aged. However, when most of us reached that new decade of life, we probably weren’t fazed much. Sometimes, people get freaked out over not being in their 20s anymore, a ten-year span of having fun. Okay, we have fun in-between figuring out how to pay our bills now that we’re on our own. Maybe that fun was why it was so hard to pay those bills?
My 30s didn’t bother me. Physically, I didn’t feel much different than I had in previous years. I was able to be very active, with one exception. In 2005, my right knee started to bother me. After seeing my doctor, it was determined that I had fluid build-up and should wear a knee brace, which is what I’ve done ever since when I’m partaking in physical activities. Other than that, I didn’t feel much different.
I promised myself that turning 40 wouldn’t matter. Despite the best efforts of my co-workers to show me how over the hill I was, that number wasn’t a big deal. After all, it’s not as if my body suddenly decided that being that age meant I was frail and enfeebled.
Or maybe it did. I have to say that since that changeover, I’ve had more issues than all the previous years put together. For the past few years, I’ve had some minor plantar fasciitis in my right foot. It’s not helped by the constant need I have to keep being active. Well, and to not ice it as I should…
And now my right shoulder is being troublesome. Again, I should know better, but this likely stems from throwing batting practice way back at the end of March. I probably threw 150 pitches one day and then didn’t keep up with icing it to help in recovery. Or maybe I did something that is more severe.
This is my biggest problem as I age: I know that I should do more maintenance after running around, but I don’t, not consistently anyway. Why not? This is probably the toughest part of aging: knowing when the parts don’t run the way they used to. Sure, my arm hurts, but I’m sometimes too stubborn to just take ten minutes a day to ice it and try to stabilize the problem.
What will happen when I reach 50? And 60? And beyond? The truth is I need to wake up and figure out how to take better care of myself. I have to recognize my limitations. I have to give my body time to recover and not just figure it will work itself out in the end.
I want to keep officiating and umpiring as long as I can. I sometimes officiate with guys in their 60s and marvel at that. The way my body feels now, I can’t imagine I’ll still be able to, even if I want to.
It’s as if the right side of my body is betraying me. Foot, knee, and shoulder are nowhere near 100%, and those things have to get figured out so I don’t wake up with pain the rest of my life. I’m sure some of this relates to my youth, when I dove around and never worried about long-term repercussions. But now I need to start worrying.
Getting older feels so different now, even compared to five years ago. I know that many of my readers are thinking about what a young whippersnapper I still am, but I wonder at what age others started to truly feel their age. I’ll pinpoint that magical 40 as when I finally noticed what was happening.
And really, it’s okay. My body wasn’t destined to hold up forever, but I think the limitations I face now and possibly more in the future, at least in regard to my body, are more difficult than the mental aspects of aging. When the day comes that, even if I still love doing it, I can’t squat down to call balls and strikes, it will be very difficult. Anyone who has ever played a sport knows that feeling when you’re just done. It’s not fun.
It all comes down to this: the inevitability that I am getting older. It’s not all fun and games anymore, but hopefully I’ve recognized some things in time to make some changes and have a shot at being like some of my friends and still umpire in my 60s!
Word of the Week: This week’s word is Zoilus, which means a harsh critic, as in, “The doctor became his main Zoilus, showing him ways he must change to live an active lifestyle.” Impress your friends and confuse your enemies!