Most people dread these birthdays, they hate getting older. They think things like, "In five years, I'll be as old as my parents were when they had me (true in my case)." They also think about life moving by. We are no longer as care free as we once were. Some of us have children or are working on having children, while others are getting graduate degrees and moving past entry level to middle management.
While a lot of those things are true in my case, I feel as good as I did when I turned 29. I could make the case that I feel better then when I was 29... Much better. I am 25 pounds lighter, I sleep better, I feel like my reaction times are better and I have a great new promising job. It's as if I'm getting better with age. I'm like a fine wine... Time makes me better. Then just like that, I got a message from my body that indeed I'm getting older. There was an incident...
It all started on a beautiful Friday afternoon. It was a particular Friday afternoon that I'd been looking forward to for some time. About once a year I get together with my brothers and one other person and we play in a charity golf tournament. It's really an excuse for us to take a half day away from the office and play golf on someone else's dime. It's great fun and I look forward to it every year.
Day started off pretty good. We had lunch and hit the links. I am a terrible golfer but my brother is worse. We combine to a really terrible team but we have a great time together. We got all the way through 16 before it happened.
I typically drive the golf cart, it's just my personality. We were approaching my cart buddy's golf ball and I had a thought. This is where it went bad. In my head it looked like this. Think of a deer in a snowy pasture jumping over a fence. It's graceful. A perfect picture of athleticism. With that picture in mind, while moving at the maximum golf cart speed possible, I drove close to the golf ball, careened the golf cart to the right and jumped out...
Now think of the deer. Think of the athleticism, think of the grace. Now think of the complete opposite and you've just about got it. Thinking I would jump from the cart and land in stride plucking the golf ball from earth's grasp, I tumbled... end over end... lots of times. Finally I came to rest after what seemed like an hour of tumbling, only to hear hysterical laughing coming from my brothers. With no regard to how hurt I might be, they pulled up next to me, pointing and laughing. I didn't help anything because I was cracking up. I noticed some pain but it didn't matter. I had the giggles and nothing could stop it. Apparently, when I tumbled end over end (lots of times) my ankle remained stationary. It hurt badly and it started to swell immediately. The last two holes were ruined. We laughed our way through every shot thinking of the tumbling... lots of times.
When asked why I thought jumping from a golf cart moving at full speed (a whole 7 miles an hour) was a good idea, I could only reply with, "I used to be able to do that". It's true. 29 year old me, fatter, slower and probably smellier would have pulled the jump off beautifully. Instead I got hurt. Pretty badly actually.
Old me. No injury.
Older me. Sprained ankle. See the evidence.
This one was a few hours after the "incident"
This is the next morning
For comparison purposes
I just threw up.
Oh the humanity...
All of this from golfing. Traditionally, golf is not known as a dangerous or accident prone sport. Throw the new much older me into the mix and anything can happen.