I finally have reached the point where I'm realizing I'm getting old. What a mean and rough realization. There you are thinking you are invincible and then all of the sudden one sprint down a field and every muscle in your body contorts and pulls. And then as if your pride isn't hurt enough, you find yourself limping around and telling 18 year olds about your stellar days in college. The stories seem to be going well, until you find yourself asleep and in too much pain to move.
A couple of days ago I got back from Japan. I went over there to play a lacrosse tournament called the Friendship Games. I don't know if they were trying to be ironic or mistranslated something, but this tournament was anything but about making friends. I have never been knocked over more, nor have I hit more people. By the end I was heard screaming in the middle of the game, "That's absolute Japanese BS!" What is Japanese BS? Basically, it's my lame attempt at yelling at a Japanese ref on the sabbath.
Needless to say it was an interesting trip. We hit three cities, four hotels and traveled with way toooo many eighteen year olds. I swear I wasn't that stupid at eighteen. (I mean being ten pounds over weight, in love with a total fantasy from Utah and failing out of school may constitute stupid, but ten years later I can paint any picture I want.) These girls were like they've never seen boys or beer in a vending machine before. Okay, maybe beer in a vending machine is a little strange...Anyway, I felt like every where I looked was a reminder of how old I'm getting. My brain hurt from "morning drama and confessions" and my body hurt from the reenactment of world war three. 28...and contemplating a life of reading, walking and scrapbooking.