I was all set to come in here today and write about my day yesterday.
I was at a Canada Day volleyball tournament yesterday, playing some recreational ball in the sun with friends. It was a lovely day. And I watched a young woman I used to coach when she first started out, and she’s grown into a very poised, very talented athlete. And I started feeling my age, with torn-up painful knees, and I thought, “I remember when I used to be that good.”
So today, I was feeling like writing one of those oh-to-be-young-again, missing-who-I-used-to-be, growing-old, contemplative, blah-de-blah-blahing kind of posts.
And then I read this article about a woman who will be competing, and perhaps medalling, in swimming at the Beijing Olympics. And she’s 41 YEARS OLD.
Dude. LOOK at the woman. Look what she is doing AT MY AGE.
Granted, she’s spending, what, 100K a year with a staff whipping her into shape. (I mean, if I had 100K, I could be awesome fit too. I could kick some butt my own self.) And we won’t analyze the divorces and time spent away from current husband and kid.
But on the surface of it, she’s 41 years old and she’s fit and she’s worked her can off to get back into shape. And she’s competing with the young kids.
And after reading that?
She TOTALLY made me look like a big ol’ whiny crybaby butthead. Who needs to get in shape.
So… yeah. Never mind.