For the longest time, I had difficulty pinpointing what my biggest fear was. Usually, I’d just write it off as spiders, seeing as their eight legs, (anything more than six freaks me out) multiple eyes, and the sometimes hairy bodies they possess puts me completely on edge. If I come across one, I develop a minor bout of anxiety until it is removed. Worst case scenario would be if I saw a spider in my bedroom and the little bastard got away from me – I know that thing is going to either A) sneak up on me when I leas expect it, or B) crawl into my mouth while I’m sleeping to possibly lay its eggs inside some microscopic cavity of my esophagus. At least in the latter scenario, my stomach acids would put an end to the eight-legged creature’s existence in a natural way that would not leave me with the guilt of “playing god,” rather, it would just be nature taking its course.
But yesterday – March 8, 2012 – will mark the date in which I, undoubtedly, realized what my greatest fear in life is: getting old.
All week I was running around, working two jobs, moving into a new apartment and squeezing in some snowboarding in whatever spare time that I could find. Without any furniture, I found myself sleeping on the floor until I was able to pick up a pull-out couch from the local thrift store. The mattress was what I expected – thin and offering no real comfort or support, but hey, it was better than the floor. Couple that with moving my bear of a television set, and a t-bone collision with some ignorant “I’m from Texas and am the ultimate skier, so you have to yield to me despite you being the downhill rider who possesses the right of way-asshole,” my back became (so it felt) all but broken. I honestly cannot remember experiencing a pain worse than this throughout my existence.
So, when I woke up yesterday, finding it extremely difficult to even muster the energy to get out of bed, I began to think, “Is this what getting older is going to be like?” I mean, realistically, my body is going to deteriorate no matter what initiatives I take to slow it down. I’m a pretty active person, I eat healthy and I do my best to take good care of my body. And sure, I’m assuming this “injury” will come and pass after a few days, but it really got me worried about the future. I imagine my consecutive hours spent snowboarding will one day decrease, and those days of riding eight hours straight without breaking for food, water or just rest, will be a thing of the past.
And what about when I do have another injury? I imagine it will take longer to recover with age, and, on top of it, I imagine these injuries will become more frequent. Instead of just ignoring what I now consider to be “bumps and bruises,” will I find myself couch-ridden for days on end?
Maybe I’m just getting a little frustrated knowing that I have to take it easy the next few days (especially when I have some of my best friends in Shane, Josh and Annie out on vacation), and that’s what’s bringing me down. Either way, I hate to think about one day not being able to snowboard, ride my bike, or even worse, make it out of bed. As much as we all try to prevent it, getting old is one of the few guarantees in life, and honestly, it sucks – not just the fact that it happens, but because it is happening and it’s going to forever be a weight on my back (figuratively and literally at the moment).
Anyway, I just hope this is a minor injury that will pass within the next few days. For now, ibuprofen and bed are my best friends, and thew two of them don’t seem to be bringing much to the table. If anyone has any suggestions on how to deal with a pulled back muscle, or what I should/shouldn’t do in taking care of it, I’m all ears. But hey, at least now I know spiders aren’t my biggest fear, and I think that’s a step in the right direction to not being some pansy who’s going to run and cry at the sight of an insect.