Watching the Iowa State game vs. #20 Kansas State as I write this blog. KSU is winning by one, and the game is engaging. The internet makes the experience choppy, as it cuts out when someone else joins the network. I’m learning about the limits of the network in form I’ve developed it. I don’t really have a full understanding of the capabilities of the Nighthawk system, but I know enough to know that it is not enough right now.
The Cyclones are wearing the black uniforms in this critical home game. The black is not new as of the last ten years but new as in post my involvement with the program. Lately I’ve been struggling with the idea of time. New reflects a lot of things, but most of all it reflects how old I am in comparison to how old, mentally, I want to be. Perhaps I am always going to be in my early 30s even as I stumble towards 50. That number is a terrifying one.
Yesterday I played with the kids for over an hour and today I am sore. That is what it feels to be old. Sore, past your prime, mentally run down, over worked, and desperate to have a taste of virility back. At least, that is what it feels like to me.