Twist the spine

I used to fantasize about being a professional athlete. Refusing to believe that I had reached the age where professional sports of most any breed are well out of reach, I would still daydream, while on the elliptical machine at my gym, about being a world-renowned soccer player or golfer. At first, I began to notice that the rookie players were starting to look young to me. Then, I realized if I was playing in a televised game, the commentators would be probably refer to me as the crafty veteran as opposed to the young superstar… What has been long apparent to everyone else around me has finally hit home; the beautiful youth of my youth has developed crows feet and smile wrinkles.

For active people, I think the first moment of true mortality happens when your body fails you. For me, it was a cantaloupe. A pathetic, silly melon that nine times out of ten doesn’t taste all that good. My dad tossed me a cantaloupe at the fruit stand, and as I caught it, I heard a small pop. Agony, self defined as: an absolute inability to stand. And, that was it. No bone crushing hit punctuated by the absolute silence of the crowd waiting, breath collectively held, for my thumbs up as I was wheeled off the field. Just a scornful look from the Chinese woman buying honeydew and the relatively unaffected glances from the Latinos unloading the truck parked a few feet away.

Now, things are different. I can’t put my pants on with the same reckless abandon of my youth. And, I am now referred to as the “delicate flower” by the old men I play racquetball with on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But, don’t start feeling sad for me. I have managed to develop quit a pharmaceutical cache (thank you big, faceless HMO) and I have turned my attentions to less strenuous yet equally gratifying sports such as pool and darts. The truly hard thing has been to retrain myself to daydream about other things while on the elliptical machine. Now, I am a scientist madly working on a cure for cancer, or the coach of an upstart college basketball team. Granted, neither daydream is nearly as satisfying as the old ones, but I feel that with my age, a certain level of maturity needs to take hold, and that I should start dreaming about more realistic goals.