Awkward Post [21.03]
“You are only as old as you think you are.” Do you buy into that?
It becomes a difficult concept to buy into as time goes by, especially when you reach the age where you wake up with more aches and pains than you had the night before.
The age when throwing a ball around with your kids in the backyard results in a week of shoulder stiffness, and the aroma of sports cream is more pervasive than your cologne.
The reality is that your body is telling you, “You’re old!” and your mind is simply in denial of accepting the fact of the matter.
I suppose the phrase intends that one should not let the aging process get them down.
While time will ultimately win the battle against each of us, how we handle the time we have is up to us. Do we mope around and “feel old” and avoid living life, or do we accept getting older and still try to live our best lives?
This has been on my mind quite a bit the past few months as I have officially entered my mid-40’s.
Getting older really is a strange process. For the longest time, you don’t feel any different from when you were in high school.
Slowly you are changing, and you don’t even realize it is happening. Until one day, the changes are so obvious that you can’t help but see them.
You may begin to realize that when you were in high school, your parents were approximately the same age that you are now.
How does that make you feel?
You have now reached that odd time in life where you are “old” to your kids while simultaneously considered “young” to your parents and grandparents.
You realize that music just isn’t what it used to be.
Language. I now shudder when I hear people using inappropriate language for no particular reason. I am shocked by how often I overhear the “F” word when sitting in a restaurant or at a ball game.
It’s a bit unnerving, to be honest.
Don’t let me mislead you. I will sprinkle some color into conversations in an appropriate setting. However, it feels like many folks have lost the capability to be situationally aware.
Moving on…
You may realize that your kids are searching for independence, and your role has transitioned from either mom or dad to Uber driver and bank teller.
You may realize that you are one of the middle-aged characters the Progressive insurance commercials depicts as “turning into their parents.”
“How much does it cost?”, “Who left the door open?” and “How do they stay in business just selling candles?”.
These are not questions I cared about 25 years ago, but if you just ask my wife, these are (annoyingly) top of mind for me now.
Bummed Out…
It’s been a bit over seven months since my work on this post began.
At the time, I was recovering from knee surgery to repair a torn quadriceps tendon in my left knee, and I was bummed about what that likely meant.
You see, I have played indoor soccer for the better part of the past 20 years, and this injury was the first time where I honestly felt like I may have played my last match.
It may sound silly to feel that way simply because I can’t play a game anymore, but soccer was an outlet for me. There is something about playing soccer that lights a spark in me and makes me feel free.
Don’t let me give you the impression that I was any good at it. I wasn’t. However, I like to think over the years that I managed to get good enough not to be a considerable roster liability for my over-30’s old man soccer team.
Over the years, I identified my strengths as a player. My strengths were that I was dependable, aggressive, and “fast” compared to many of the other “old men” we played.
“Scrappy” might be the best word to describe my style.
I grew to embrace the challenge of defending the best offensive player from the opposing team. Shadowing them all over the field and simply trying to be a thorn in their side.
Alter their shot. Force them to pass. Bump them off the ball. My goal was to frustrate them and do anything to prevent them from scoring. Maybe even a “friendly” cheap shot now and then if it looked like I was about to get burned.
When I am on the soccer field, I don’t feel any of the things that may hold me back in real life. I simply see the ball, my opponent, and my teammates.
Soccer brings out confidence in me and even a competitive spirit that may surprise those who know me as a calm and reserved guy.
I was thinking of these moments of competing and letting go as I sat there with 25 staples in my knee, knowing what a long road was ahead of me and realizing that I was not getting any younger.
I’d realized that I had likely reached the end of something I have truly enjoyed for so long.
Perspective
As I mentioned, this post began when one could say I was “pouting” about my situation. However, some events would put my mood into perspective as the year went by.
Life handed out a significant dose of perspective this year as we lost a friend and neighbor to COVID-19.
He was in his mid-40’s too, worked for the same company I do, and had kids the same age as mine. There are so many similarities that I can’t help but think, “What if it had been me?”.
I can’t help but feel selfish for moping around about not playing a stupid soccer game while his family would give anything to see him walk through the door after a day at work again or to play catch in the front yard again.
Perspective…
A second dose of perspective came at the end of a nearly two-year-long battle against cancer for a co-worker’s son.
This bright young man was only 21. He spent what was supposed to be two of the best years in his young life simply fighting to survive instead of enjoying the challenges of becoming an independent adult and attending college.
How is that fair?
How can I complain about my annoying aches and pains when a mother and father can’t watch their son’s life unfold the way it was supposed to?
Perspective…
Another young man who was my daughter’s friend took his own life.
Perspective…
A friend and co-worker of my wife lost a young child suddenly to illness.
Perspective…
These are not a complete list, by the way. Friends are fighting their own battles yet, and other families in our community are going through difficult times.
The point is not to be a downer here. Nor am I telling you these things to bring about any sympathy for myself.
I’m sharing these events with you as a reminder to be grateful.
It’s easy to feel down and out about our particular life situations, but often what feels significant to us in a single moment may ultimately not be that significant in the bigger picture.
It became clear to me that I needed to take a dose of the same advice that I have given to my children so many times and “Be grateful for all the things I do have rather than focusing on the things I don’t have.”
Ultimately, my feeling down inspired me to do a bit of reflection. How did I find soccer? Why was this sport such a substantial part of my life?
As I thought of these things, I began to realize that the significant influence of soccer in my life (and subsequently my family’s lives) came from what was a singular, small decision.
I have thought more about that decision and the resulting impacts that came from it, and then I began writing…
Soccer… Broken…
Birth of an old man
So here I am, sitting in my chair, wearing my “Everything Hurts!” t-shirt, icing my knee.
“Why are you icing your knee?” you ask.
Well, because I am two and a half weeks out of surgery to repair a torn quadriceps tendon in my left leg.
“Ouch! How did you do that?” you ask.
I’ll attempt to give what I consider a “logical” answer and say, “I injured myself playing indoor soccer because we were low on subs, and my legs were tired. It was almost half-time, and I lunged forward to make a tackle on the ball during which there was a popping sensation at the top of my knee cap followed by a twinge in my middle thigh….”
If my wife is nearby, it’s at this point she will interject something like, “He’s just too stubborn to admit that he’s too old to play old man soccer anymore!”
Which she’ll, of course, say with that loving “He is such dumbass…” look on her face that I love.
She’s not wrong.
I’m slowly coming to realize that she is often right. In fact, she will tell you that she’s always right, and it just takes me a while to come around to see things her way.
She’s probably right about that too…
As it would turn out, a torn quadriceps tendon is a significant injury. For those who maybe don’t know what it is and have not had the joy of going through it, I’ll explain the best that I can.
The quadriceps tendon is essentially where the quad muscles in your thigh converge and attach to the top of your knee. When you tear this tendon completely, it will be evident because your knee cap will sag/drop out of position.
I’ll give you a moment to fully appreciate thinking about your kneecap not being in the anatomically correct position.
I, fortunately, did not have a complete tear.
Instead, I had a partial tear that left my leg mostly functional but still caused significant pain and limitations.
It was strange because I could still walk, but I couldn’t lift my leg without tremendous pain to do things like get into bed or climb stairs.
This isn’t my first injury, but it has been the most demoralizing injury.
This injury feels like it may be the final nail in the coffin of my old man soccer days. This injury has awakened me to the fact that maybe, just maybe, my body can’t handle what I’m asking it to do anymore.
The day you wake up and realize that you are not a youngster anymore is quite a slap in the face.
If age could talk, I think it would say, “I know in your mind that you think you are still 25 and living the best times of your life. However, I’m here to remind you that you are pushing 45, and from now on, every time you go out and try to act like you are 25 again, those body parts that used to bend and flex are just going to start snapping. You need to adjust your expectations!”
Adjust my expectations??? Ouch! I don’t want to do that!
So here I am, sitting in my chair, wearing my “Everything Hurts!” t-shirt, icing my knee.
Will this be the last time?
Life Markers
The significance of the insignificant
Do you remember the timeline charts we had to memorize in school for History class?
There would be a line across the page with tiny tick marks and labels indicating the dates certain important events occurred.
Things such as when the Constitution was signed, when the Civil War started and ended, when Abraham Lincoln was president, and so on.
Have you ever applied this exercise to your life? Maybe you haven’t done this literally, but what if you did?
Suppose you were to take a moment and draw a line on a blank sheet of paper. This line represents your life.
Now start marking the significant events of your life journey.
You likely start by marking the day you were born. An undeniable starting point as none of us would be here without that day.
What’s next?
Things might start popping into your head, such as getting your driver’s license, your first kiss, turning 18, turning 21, and so on. As you make your way to your adult years, you start to think of “grown-up” events such as marriage, the birth of your first child, maybe even the death of a loved one.
Your timeline is likely starting to fill up with milestones. I like to call these milestones “Life Markers” because these are all events that have significantly “marked” you in some way.
Sometimes a Life Marker will result in long-lasting effects or fundamentally shift your mindset or value system.
An example of this is when you become a parent for the first time. This is a situation where many people likely (hopefully) feel an increased sense of responsibility.
There is now a tiny, helpless human dependent on you to provide for their safety and well-being. You may take on less risky behaviors from this point forward, knowing the baby’s future is directly linked with your ability to provide.
You may even change how you act or how you talk once you realize you are now one of the most important role models this person will ever have.
How about marriage?
When you get married, you have committed to loving and caring for your spouse “till death do you part.” You now have a responsibility to your partner, and the decisions you make in life from this point on will revolve around this commitment.
Identifying these “big” events in our lives is pretty straightforward. Right?
Well, I’m not going to talk about those as that would probably not be very interesting.
It’s true that the birth of my daughter, my firstborn, was one of the single most impactful events in my life. But who wants to hear about the emotions I felt when she was born?
Likely no one.
That’s a fairly cynical thing to say, isn’t it?
I say that because while her birth was a huge event in my life, the birth of a child is not an uncommon life event. Many people (too many probably LOL) have experienced the birth of their firstborn child, and they surely had their own emotional experience.
I’m going to dig a bit deeper and think a bit longer (the introvert thing to do) about the Life Markers unique to my path and share a bit of my story with you.
I genuinely believe that we all have highly impactful life markers that are interesting and subtle. Decisions we made (or did not make) that ultimately created a domino effect of change on our life paths.
Perhaps these events or circumstances were so subtle that you didn’t realize their significance until years later.
Hopefully, this inspires you to think more about your journey and identify the unforeseen little things that have shaped your journey.
Life Marker: Age 37 – First Surgery
Somehow I survived childhood without breaking a bone, dislocating a joint, having tubes in my ears, having my tonsils or appendix removed.
Nothing!
Those who only have known me for the past eight years may find this hard to believe, but I made it through the first 37 years of my life without a single surgical procedure.
I was pretty proud of this.
It’s not like I was advertising it to the world or making t-shirts about it, but it was something I irrationally felt like I could keep going, much like Jerry Seinfeld’s no-vomit streak.
For 37 years, I believed I was invincible.
Then something crazy happened. I became “middle-aged,” and things began to unravel…
Surgery #1 – ACL (age 37)
My first significant injury, of course, happened while I was playing indoor soccer.
The match was nearly over, and I was fatigued. I attempted to make a tackle on the ball and when my left foot made contact with the turf, an unfamiliar sensation coursed through my leg.
It isn’t easy to describe the feeling.
The best way to explain it to you is to imagine the bottom of your upper leg sliding outward sideways over your lower leg. You know, in a direction, your knee shouldn’t move.
A brief moment of pain quickly faded away, but I knew something weird had just happened.
I left the field to assess the situation, and after a few minutes on the sideline, I decided to give it another go. The pain was gone, and I thought maybe I had just buckled my knee.
My hopes were dashed shortly after retaking the field as my left leg gave out on me again. Crap! Something was not right.
Remaining in denial, I tried to play in the following Friday night’s match. Once again, I fell to the ground just moments into the match when making a cut move. It was time to get things checked out.
My 37-year “no surgery” streak was about to end due to an ACL tear in my left knee.
Thoughts on my first surgery…
I have one word for surgery. Surreal.
One moment you are kissing your wife in the pre-op room (pre-COVID). Moments later, the nurses are whisking you off to the operating room and asking questions about your family and kids.Suddenly, you find yourself waking up groggy (kind of like when you get a phone call in the middle of the night, and you can’t quite get your bearings to talk coherently), and someone says, “Hey, there you are! Surgery is all done!”
The time is just gone.
There was no pain or awareness. Thank goodness for modern medicine!
At this point, my confidence was not affected. I took the surgery in stride, and in fact, I woke up to the fact that I needed to adopt a healthier lifestyle.
I decided that I had injured myself because I was not as physically fit as I had liked to imagine I was. I needed to be in better shape to go out and run around on Friday nights.
The dominoes of my journey begin to fall. Soccer leads to ACL, which leads to the beginning of a healthier lifestyle.
I’ll save a deep dive on CrossFit and the impact of discovering fitness for another day. For now, I will just say that as I approached 40 years old, I was more fit than I had ever been at any point before in my life.
If I had not had an injury from soccer, I might never have made this discovery.
Surgery #2 – Shoulder (age 42)
Following my ACL repair, my overall health improved. But age was still lurking in the background and waiting to make its reappearance.
I made it about four years (age 42) before needing another surgery, which is when things began to pile up.
I had been experiencing shoulder pain for many months, and no amount of physical therapy or ibuprofen seemed to be helping. We finally did an MRI, which showed a potential tear of my rotator cuff, but it was not 100% conclusive. Additionally, there was bone-on-bone contact in my AC joint that needed to be cleaned up.
Fortunately, this surgery uncovered no tear in the rotator cuff, so I avoided weeks of wearing an uncomfortable shoulder immobilizer and the long-term physical therapy that comes along with that. The Dr. simply cleaned up my AC joint, and now my shoulder feels like new again. It still feels great to this day!
Because of how smooth this surgery went, I forgot just how uncomfortable the recovery process could be.
Surgery #3 – Torn Hip Labrum (age 43)
The result of a nagging injury and Father Time once again saying “Not so fast!”
I was 43 years old, and I had been experiencing pain in my right hip for the past couple of years. It started as something uncomfortable but not all that bad and then slowly became more frequent and sharper.
It turns out I had a hip impingement that resulted in a labrum tear. The tear was not the result of any single traumatic event. It was more of a genetic issue in the hip joint worsened by maintaining an active lifestyle.
Following this surgery, I changed my mindset to “work smarter, not harder.” I followed my physical therapy regimen better than I previously would have. I took up Yoga to improve my mobility and core strength.
I stopped worrying about lifting my “personal best” to lifting weights that felt good on my body, and I was making steady progress.
My strength was slowly regaining, my mobility was better than before, and my body finally felt good again.
I even waited to return to soccer until fully cleared as “healthy.”
Cue the ominous music… Things were going too well.
Surgery #4 – Torn Quadriceps Tendon (age 44)
I was back into a routine, and I was starting to feel like myself again. I had been easing my way back into soccer.
Rather than playing soccer every Friday night, I had been taking one or two weeks off between matches, and I was beginning to feel like I was getting back to normal.
I felt like I had been doing everything right.
That is, until March 5th, 2021, when the rug got pulled out from under me.
It was a Friday night soccer match, and we were extremely short on players. We had zero subs, which meant those who did show up would have to play a full 50-minutes of soccer.
I felt like I could handle an entire match as long as I was wise in managing my energy level. The idea was I would rotate from offense to defense to take breaks from running too much.
This match turned out to be a disaster.
Not only were we out-manned in numbers, but we were also out-manned in every aspect of the game. They were younger, faster, more skilled, and they were not holding anything back.
The match was approaching half-time, and we were exhausted and getting our tails handed to us, and that is when the unthinkable occurred.
In this particular sequence, I made a run down the left side of the field and encountered an opponent. We battled briefly for the ball, and I planted my left leg to push off, and I felt a painful pop at the top of my kneecap followed by a weird sensation in the middle of my thigh. The best way I can describe it is like there was a rubber band in my thigh that had been stretched too far and finally gave out.
I fell to the ground immediately and knew something wasn’t right.
I laid face down on the turf, hoping the pain would go away, flashbacks of my ACL tear racing through my head.
Once again, I visited my friends at KC Orthopedic Institute, and the MRI confirmed my suspicion. There was a tear in the quad tendon, and the doctor wanted to schedule surgery early the following week.
This was the first surgery that was not arthroscopic, and they sent me home with 25 staples in my knee.
Having never experienced staples before, I was a little freaked out (my wife will say I was a LOT freaked out) the first time we removed the bandages to reveal something that reminded me of Frankenstein.
And that brings us up to date…
Life Marker: Age 25 – Soccer Discovery
When I was 25, if you had asked me my thoughts on soccer, I might have shrugged and quipped something like, “Is soccer even a real sport?”
My life had been a steady diet of the traditional rural American sports, baseball, basketball, football, and track, until this point. As far as I knew, soccer was something “city kids” did. Honestly, I didn’t understand it nor care to learn anything about it.
Unfortunately, my initial perception of soccer isn’t that far off of what many people think of it yet to this day.
While the American interest in soccer has increased over the years, it still barely makes it into America’s top five list (Top 10 Most Popular Sports in America).
Hockey is #4… and can you tell me the last time anyone you know watched hockey? That’s precisely my point. While soccer has a strong grassroots community, the sport still has quite a way to go to attract the masses.
So what changed all of this for me?
How did I morph from being utterly ignorant to the “World’s game” and become a bit of a soccer nut? Well, it happened unexpectedly.
Somewhere near 20 years ago, a few co-workers invited me to join them at their Friday night coed soccer league. The team was sponsored by the company we worked for and included folks from my software development team and a few extended friends.
They were short on players and must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel to get to the point of asking me to join them. I have never been overly athletic, so I’m sure it wasn’t my nerdy physique that was drawing them in. Most likely, they probably just didn’t want me to feel left out.
I let them know I had never played before, and they didn’t care as many of them also had minimal soccer experience. The goal was to have fun and get some desperately needed exercise, so my co-workers didn’t care that I would be terrible.
So I decided, “Why not?”
I had no clue that this single, small, off-the-cuff decision was going to change the entire trajectory of my life from this point forward.
I had planted a Life Marker on my timeline without even realizing it.
The First Match
I can still remember the adrenaline rush of my first match.
I dug out the best old pair of tennis shoes I could find, some gym shorts, and a t-shirt. It would take a while, but eventually, I would learn to appreciate good pair of soccer shoes.
I was extremely nervous and had absolutely no clue what to do.
My plan for the evening was simple. If the ball came near me, I would blast it as hard as possible to the other end of the field. My thought process was if the ball was on the other side of the field, then the other team couldn’t score.
Clearly, this was not an ideal strategy from my teammates’ point of view… As I would eventually learn, a key to scoring goals in soccer is maintaining possession of the ball. LOL.
The match seemed like it was over almost as soon as it started, and I had so much fun!
The following Friday night’s match could not get here soon enough!
Can an old dog learn new tricks?
Over time, I slowly picked up more on the game’s nuances. I never became all that great with my footwork, but you can’t help but get a little more coordinated over time. Eventually, I was able to dribble somewhat under control, however, slowly and probably with my head down 90% of the time.
What I lacked in grace, I made up for in tenacity.
You could count on me to play hard on defense, and I learned that I could be a decent passer. So understanding my limitations, I came to terms with the fact that scoring a lot of goals was not in the cards for me, and I did what I could to help my team.
I’ll admit there isn’t anything much more exciting than scoring a goal in a match.
The nervousness that comes over you when you see a shot opening up is followed all too often by either missing your mark or getting denied by the goalie. Those moments when you strike the ball perfectly into the back of the net can be quite euphoric.
As much fun as it is to score, it would have been selfish for me to attempt taking on the role of “goal scorer” for any team I’ve been a part of.
I’ve learned, the key to being a good teammate is understanding your strengths and owning up to your weaknesses. When a team understands this concept and aligns their overall strengths towards a common goal, the entire team benefits. One selfish player can spoil everything.
It is not impossible to get more nimble on your feet starting at age 25, but it is definitely challenging if you aren’t blessed with a ton of natural athleticism, like me.
Coaching my kid’s youth teams has helped me improve my footwork as much as theirs. I would have to learn the foot skills to teach them in practice. I never became great at the execution of skills in a live match, but I did eventually resemble a soccer player.
It’s true what they say about being easier to learn fine motor skills when you are young than trying to as an Awkward adult.
Kids and Coaching
I don’t know if I would have discovered the enjoyment (and frustration) one can get from coaching without first realizing my passion for soccer.
I have coached (or helped coach) flag football, baseball, and softball teams in addition to coaching soccer. However, none of the sports has captivated me quite as much as sharing my passion for soccer with young people.
I discovered that I enjoyed working with kids, and I wanted to share the joy that soccer brought to me. I wanted to give them the “soccer bug” so that they may also share their love for the game with others one day.
Maybe some of them will be coaches one day, or they will take their kids to professional soccer matches, or perhaps they will simply take the time to kick the ball around with their children in the backyard.
Whatever they may do, I hope that one day they look back at their time playing soccer as a happy time, and they feel inclined to pass that happiness along.
Hopefully, they remember having fun with their friends.
Hopefully, they remember what it means to be fair and treat the people around them with respect.
Hopefully, they will let their kids simply enjoy sports as a recreational pastime and not fall into the parent trap of making youth sports a stressful and negative experience.
One thing leads to another…
So obviously, the decision to play soccer had a significant impact on my life simply from the aspects of me playing, coaching, and getting injured.
But what I said at the beginning was we were going to talk about the power of the “subtle” life marking events.
Let’s just list out some of the things that have occurred in my life due to saying “yes” that fateful Friday.
- Discovered a passion for soccer
- Made new friends.
- Some of those friends evolved into the kind of friend you consider to be Family.
- Relocated our home to be neighbors with these new friends.
- Watched and helped each other’s families grow and took care of one another.
- My daughter played her first youth soccer and I soon discovered coaching.
- Not long thereafter my son aslo needed a coach and I’ve coached him ever since.
- Eventually we relocated again to a rural community to be closer to work and family.
- Our new home provided an opportunity for our grandmother to move in after losing her home to flood.
- Continued to make new life-long friends and extended family members.
- Continue to coach and promote soccer in our new community.
- Partnered with a local group of coaches to launch a small town soccer club
- Found a new Friday night “old man” soccer team
- Started up a Friday “lunchtime soccer” group with some co-workers – they still play to this day.
- Watched professional soccer matches in England and Germany
- Injured my ACL playing indoor soccer and subsequently discovered a healthier lifestyle and exercise
- Son developed a passion for soccer too and transferred schools to be able to play in high school
- Injured my quadrieps tendon…
- Sitting here today writing a blog about soccer
I could go on and on, but I think I have made my point.
One thing leads to another.
Every little thing in life no matter how big or small can shape your journey in ways you never imagined.
Intersection or Collision?
I have discussed two threads of my life journey: my health and pastime as a weekend warrior.
If we represent the two life markers as paths on a journey, roads on a map, lines on a graph, or whatever… (path A, “The Awkward Man that loves to play soccer” and path B, “The Awkward Man who now has the body of a 45-year old”) eventually those paths are going to intersect.
In my case, that intersection occurred at age 44.
Is this intersection a benign one with operating traffic lights where “Soccer Man” can pause and wait for “Old Broken Man” to heal and then resume? Or is this a case where “Old Broken Man” no longer honors traffic signals and runs aimlessly into “Soccer Man”?
I never really thought it would get to this point so soon.
I play with guys in their mid 60’s, and they still go out and enjoy Friday indoor soccer night without injuring themselves.
Maybe I just don’t know how to play my age?
When I am on the field, I want to compete. I want to win. I don’t want to give away easy 50-50 balls, and I definitely don’t want to let 30-year-olds beat me. To me, if we aren’t trying, then what is the point of playing.
Soccer has been my outlet.
I am an introvert by nature. I tend to get self-conscious in crowds. I have mastered the art of “blending in” or disappearing from group situations. Sometimes this is to my benefit because your mistakes tend to get overlooked when you go unnoticed. Sometimes this is to my detriment because when I told my long-time indoor soccer team I was retiring, no one reached out to say anything to me after all these years of playing together.
I’m slipping out the back door unnoticed.
One day they’ll be like – where’s that Awkward Man who used to play 110% energy? He wasn’t that good, but he sure did work hard! Whatever happened to him?
I feel like I’m missing out.
I have coached youth soccer for basically the last ten years. The group of boys I coached are now mostly in high school, and I’ve coached my last season with them.
I’ve been unable to run the field with them for the last two seasons. I’ve ALWAYS played with them in training sessions ever since they were little, and I’ve dreamed of the day when I can play with them when they are grown up, and I don’t have to “let” them beat me.
This is supposed to be the time when I get to fully enjoy everything we have been building up for over the years, but I’m stuck in a leg brace watching them scrimmage—wishing that I could be running up and down the field with them, laughing and talking trash.
Getting older just sucks. It really sucks. There is no other way to put it.
There is no denying it or fighting it… time marches on, and time doesn’t give a rip about what you or I want. Time is just going to do what it does, and it’s going to keep methodically marching and marching until it wins in the end.
What I have to figure out now is, “how will I use the time I have left?” What will be the new me? How can I replace the adrenaline rush of chasing the ball down the field? How much longer will I continue to wake myself up at night kicking my wife in the shin as I dream of making the perfect shot or the perfect pass?
Maybe time will heal as it often does… or maybe like those tiny turf pellets that come home in my shoes and show up in random places, there will always be a little piece of me longing to be on the field again.
