I’m really glad I was never talented enough to be a professional athlete. It feels like a small death to hear someone look at a 34 year old and say, “his best days are behind him.” We are in that era where the window for success seems to creak shut faster and faster. This isn’t the same for writing and science where wisdom is valued over youth.
I suppose this line of thinking feels more mission critical now that I’m in a situation where my body is falling completely apart. I just had my first sinus headache, which severely challenged my ability to reason and ultimately teach. I am not used to that localized pain and pressure. I am even less used to the effect it has on my body.
Still, this blog isn’t about complaining. It is a brief moment of understanding and disappointment about the concept of aging and how our view aging makes it difficult to feel anything but pity towards the idea of maturing (read: growing old). I am seeking other emotions about aging. I’m trying to get excited about it, because of all the challenges (read: work) it has to come.
Some Thoughts:
- Saw my son’s old team practicing. I was pleased to see the level of involvement of other players. It wasn’t about one or two kids. This is an actual team and about spreading the ball a little bit more. I like it.