Quote of the Day:
“Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rage at closing of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” —Dylan Thomas
About six weeks ago TB woke up sore. You know that kind of sore you get when you’re in pretty good shape, or like when you’re a kid, and you exerted a lot of energy and you wake up the next day sore? Good sore? That ain’t at all what I felt.
Well, actually I DID feel that way. The only problem was, I hadn’t exerted any energy whatsoever the day before. Hell the entire month before, for that matter. I put it out of my head.
Until the next day. It was there again. Again and again, four or five days a week I’m feeling it. I’ve had to face the fact. I’m getting sore from sleeping. Holy crap, that pisses me off. I don’t even hit 4-0 for another month and a half. But long time readers know, I’m an anticipator. Apparently my whole being is, my physical baen as well as my accursed travellinbrain. My body decided to get a head start on the milestone.
It so happened that I was advised twice within the same week of the onset of soreness that I ought to start exercising again. I’m not getting any younger, you know? And coincidence continued to layer upon coincidence. After several years of generally declining or stable weight, I suddenly shot up ten pounds over the course of one gluttonous weekend. Ten freakin’ pounds? I didn’t do anything that bad. Yeah, there were do-nuts and pizza and a few beers even, but come on. Ten pounds? And they stuck? Yeah, that pissed me off too. But contrary to the opinion of almost everyone I’ve ever known, I listen to good advice, even take it sometimes.
And this was one of those times. Hey, forty ain’t dead, right? No need to take all these attacks from my aging bones lying down, right? So out into the hottest part of the day I charged, hundred degree temperatures and hundred percent humidities be damned. I was pissed, I wasn’t scared. I did run, true, but not out of fear–out of rage. For over a month now I’ve been out there struggling, fighting, suffering. What has it gotten me? Well, I’m a damn sight hungrier all the time, so I haven’t drop any pounds. I’m a little happier I guess, since I now attribute that morning soreness to my run the day before, though I still pause occasionally to consider how it makes my shoulders ache. And I was even beginning to make some real progress, feeling the strength in my ever-protesting legs, the tautness of my lungs.
Then last week my hip came disjointed as I tried to extend myself a little too far. I was irritated, but not totally pissed. I was due a few days off and I thought it would be nice to let the body recover. Then today I hit the course with gusto, and new shoes. I felt good, global heating be damned. I was going to easily hit that mark I’d been shooting for last week when the hip gave way. I was oblivious of the pain, the heat, the egg sucking, mentally planning my future, a lengthy, prosperous future, and humming a loop of a Hayes Carll tune I recently heard. When suddenly, a sharp pain shot up through my calf. I tried to walk it off, but it wasn’t a cramp. A pulled muscle, I guess. I stared blankly to the sky, but received only blankness in response. Boy oh boy, am I pissed.
But I’m not beaten. I’m not even dreading my 40th any more. It already came, calendar be damned, like a thief in the night some six weeks ago. What’s done is done. I’ve read on Facebook and heard from friends how great their birthdays are this year, so many I’ve known for so long turning 40 along with me in 2010. They are all handling it with graceful aplomb. They have embraced it, spoken of their joy, of their excitement, of their blessings. Not me, I’m fightin’ it. I’m pissed about it. I don’t like it. And I’m not scared of it any more either. No matter how much pain it continues to inflict. I’ll be back out there next week dammit.
In the meantime, I’m goin’ to Buffett with Little Boy. Take that, 40.
Your move.
Bonus Quote of the Day:
(laughing) “I never noticed how much gray you’ve got. Boy are you going gray! Well, at least you’re not losing it. Yet.” TB’s very old Dad, about three weeks ago, without any provocation or justification whatsoever
Travellinbaen 
LOL @ dad. Hee-lari0us.
Hope you recover from the injury soon. You have me inspired to get back to running. My ass will thank you.
Oh Kelly,I am a BIG sewing in no mans land fan but have never left a coenmmt before. No reason really but this one I couldn’t resist.Your children are just adorable, so gorgeous and obviously all so very unique, which as a mum of two myself, know would bring you so much pleasure to see all their different personalities in action.Love Sawyers weird strawberry and of course Finns selection of baby ones, perfect size for a little man like him Hope you all enjoyed the ice cream too. It is the first day of winter here in Australia, cold for us, but not cold compared to what you are used to, but ice cream is a distant memory in this house at the moment. Getting ready to have the chimney swept and start the fire soon.Thanks for sharing your life and creativity x manda
Coming to the brink is never a fun experience but it happens to us all.
I’ve often said I peaked the day before my 40th birthday – May 31, 2003. Everything was perfect that day. In the last week I’ve been told that my hair is no longer red – pissed is just the beginning the feeling I feel when I hear this! Finally, I got smart and asked – what color is it? Strawberry blond. Strawberry Blond? Ok, I’ll take that I guess. The weight has begun to stick but luckily I started out at less than 100 and stayed that way well into my 30’s. I got to the gym faithfully and still the scale never dips and the older I get the more hungry I get! Gone are the days of control – I used to be able to just have one and be smug about it. Those days are gone and I know a few people who were waiting for that to happen! But I’m still winning because I am still smaller than them!
A word of advice on the exercise – slow and steady wins the race and avoids the injury.
The best is yet to come – it is cliche but it is true.
BTW – I laughed my ass off at your coming of age (for lack of a better term) story. Misery loves company!
HAM, yep 95% of Black folks are Okay These clowns in this post are plain and spimle worthless wastes of flesh. The more I find out about Samir Shamalamadingdingdong the more I’m convinced he’s on some sort of state aid. Meaning US taxpayers are paying for his existence. Anyone with a face that tatted up is likely to do two things Sell drugs, or be on welfare. I’m betting a little from column A and a little from Column B I’d also like the POS SOB to explain his hatred of WHITE folks IF he truly hated white folks should he not take anything the white man gives? Whitey is keepin the brutha down I guess, it has nothing to do with his victim mentality or his attitude or his appearance .Here’s the real issue:When a cop arrested a black man he acted stupidly and Obama had a beer summit to Smooth the waters .When the victim is WHITE .chirp .chirp ..Obama by his inaction over this, just like the gulf is allowing this to get blown up, and it could get really bad really quick. He can’t blame this on Bush either Uh oh what will the chosen one do .
40 ain’t nuthin, kids!
Wrong exercise for one thing. Smilyj could put you on a regimen. you will feel all of 38 again.
And so now it turns out the Buffett concert is postponed until July 11. I have a trial starting July 12.
You win again, 40.
As for Marcy (welcome, sit-a spell etc), JLou and all those others of you rounding “this particular bend of life”, you’re entitled to mock. I’m just glad I’m younger than y’all.
Barista–the old many ain’t funny. Don’t encourage him (metaphysically).
Smily, I don’t wanna lose all my hair on the kind of “regimens” you do.
Ah, come on TB it ain’t that bad..is it? Don’t get too angry, it causes wrinkles.
What a pleasure to find someone who idetiifnes the issues so clearly
Mocking? I was not mocking you, I was sympathizing with you! Don’t get my strawberry blond self on the mocking box!
TB,
Nice reading. I have become fond of saying the following, “If I am hurting this bad getting out of bed at 37, I really hate to see 60”. Getting old sucks ass. No matter what anyone says. What’s that saying? “Youth is wasted on the young.” Yea, thats it.
At my ripe old age of 26, I’ve got no idea what any of you are talking about.
A. You should have taken the high road and made 39 your last “official” birthday.
B. STRETCH first.
C. Parents find great joy in pointing out our “maturity” score 1 for dad
It’s like Bette Davis said: “Old age ain’t for sissies!” And I wasnt “mocking” you–you will know what I mean in another quarter century, when you long to be 40 again.