This evening for the first time in my whole life I am realizing with sadness and panic that I may be in the beginnings of aged degeneration.
Please don't everyone laugh. I know that I am only 36 years old, and that in the larger scheme of life, that is really not very old, or even middle aged. It is just that up until now I have felt pretty young at heart, young of mind, and most importantly, full of physical youth and vigor. I don't think that most of that is true anymore. I am noticing this change very suddenly and harshly, because I am in college. It has been happening slowly for several years, but I was hanging around with people of my own age more or less, so I felt normal, regular, capable and okay about my position in life.
I am taking two classes right now. One is an online "Communication, gender and culture" class. In this class we all post our written work on a forum, and get graded on both these assignments as well as our "reply" papers, in which we must address our classmates and agree, disagree or elaborate on the points that they made, using textbook references. I have been getting responses about how much "life experience" that I have, how well I write, etc., which is all great, but what I notice is that these strengths are because I am much older than the vast majority of my classmates, and I do indeed have a lot more experience. I am finding that the ideas that I express when I compare my work to most of theirs, sound, well...old fashioned and well seasoned. This really doesn't bother me. I actually feel good about my perspective, as I have earned it through plenty of life work. I wouldn't go back to the age of mistaken notions that one knows most of what there is to know, or back to the out-of-proportion self-certainty that is so common in the early twenties. I couldn't be paid enough to retract my experiences, and I REALLY need the money!
My second class is a super- kick-your-butt, high energy, African dance class. Oh my. Class 1 left me sore but energized, with a slightly noticeable pain in the left knee. Class two was a little better, and I thought, "okay, I am going to get my endurance built up for this in no time.", though me knee was admittedly still bothering me a bit. Class three was fun, I felt like I was improving, and for some reason the knee stopped being an issue about half an hour into class, but my body hurt like bloody hell for the next twenty four hours. Tonight was class four. The warm up included running around the dance studio like a track in a gym. I noticed that my worn out and dragged down by five babies, milk filled boobs were bouncing loosely and obviously, and felt enough self consciousness about it to immediately cease jogging and step out into the dressing area. I asked a kind classmate who had just come in late, to assist me in tightening my bra straps. She laughed with me, in what she assumed was understanding, because she is nursing her first child, now over a year old. Her boobs don't sag, likely because she only has one kid, and likely also because she has better booby genetics (mine have never been great), so I doubt she really understands my problem, but the friendly gesture of common ground was lovely. Mental note- find cheap sports bra before next session!
More warming up brought some jumpy, bouncy, arm flailing types of movements, during which I noticed with more embarrassment that my really flabby (five births later) mid section was bouncing over my stretchy, work out pants that always rolls down under "the roll", and my loose t-shirt was flouncing up to show the whole revealing picture. I spent the rest of class, self-consciously tugging the pants up over "the roll", which is so very unfashionable these days. Most everyone wears their pants at the hip, except for those who are losing their shape to middle age (oh-no! Am I? Is this permanent?) Note to self- wear snug, LONG tank top under any future t-shirt to dance class to avoid unsightly tum exposure.
Then, the knee started in. Every time I put weight on it, which is like every 3 seconds in African dance, it shot a pain out in concentric circles round my knee. I favored it a little, attempting to keep in step and focus on the movements. As it got worse, I stumbled, trying to jump onto that leg, the knee pain radiating down toward my ankle now, and feeling a weakness, as if it could give out and land me on the floor. Meanwhile,
Alseny, my large, dark, handsome, energetic instructor kept emphasizing, "jump HIGHER! MOVE your
BOdy!". I tried. Ow. I moved more subtly. He stopped the live drummers, looked directly at me and shrugged, frustrated. "JUMP- MOVE YOUR WHOLE body!" The room was quiet. "UM, my knee really hurts.", I said. He looked confused, as he speaks little English. The English speaking co-teacher looked up from her drum. "Oh. Take it easy.", she said. I don't think
Alseny got it, but accepted her answer to me, and moved on. I got increasingly discouraged, as my pain distracted me from even remembering the next steps, and I made more and more mistakes. I am sure I looked completely incompetent, and more uncoordinated than even a beginner should, and I have a long history of dance, although ballet is a whole different animal. After class, I spoke to Andrea, the English speaking teacher, and she recommended that I sit through the next class or two to observe and let it heal, and see if I can dance again after that. "Don't worry about
Alseny's comments", she attempted to comfort me. "He is just trying to encourage you guys. Most of these people are in their 20's you know, so you need to take it slower." Okay. I know that was supposed to be a kind comment, but it didn't quite hit me right. The fact that is that obvious that I am definitely not in my 20's made me feel pretty darn old. The fact that my age requires me to "take it slower", is simply not okay with me. There is no turning back time or degeneration. I am on the path to slow
decrepidation (had to check if that was a real word... sure is. It means
falling apart of the
glutinumulous parts, whatever those are. Seems to fit.)
I left, depressed, embarrassed, and feeling unfit for my attempted path to fitness. I decided to stop by the grocery store on the way home. I bought some healthy food and some dark chocolate, my usual attempt at life preservation, which is likely to only make a slight difference in my life expectancy. The cashier asked me how I am today. "I just had a dance class and hurt my knee. I am feeling discouraged today", I spilled. Amazing how fast it all comes out when you need someone to talk to, and some nice,
un-suspicious person makes the mistake of asking. She offered her apologies and was very sweet. "I just rang you up some free love.", she said. "I really hope your knee gets better." I left. I went to the car. Upon examination, my receipt really did show the love. That is so awesome. Every store should sell it, I mean give it. This is so Eugene. Thank you
Sundance Market. I think you might be my favorite store ever!
This jam is seriously delicious- I have been missing out until I found it last week. Yum yum!
