100 percent isn't what it used to be


"tell me about it."

the timing of something like what i went through (and continue to "go through") this summer would never be good, per se. such is any unexpected and/or scary news. you never want it. you tell yourself you're never gone get it. then, you get it. you deal with it. we all deal with it in our own individual ways.

before the mass was found, though, i was already at a time of physical transition in my life. don't get me wrong. i don't want to be shallow and play the "i am getting old" card as an excuse, but i will say that i've been coming to terms with "i am not what i used to be" for a couple of years. of course, i am not old. 32 sounds young to me. 32 has always sounded young to me. i hope i get the chance to look back in thirty years and understand how young 32 really was and is. but, 32 is older than 27, and it is definitely older than 23, which is how young i was when i started playing softball and basketball full-time with and for the church. it was nine years ago that i felt like i could and should start something sports-y for myself and the men in and around my church. for those that were already there, we could have another excuse to fraternize with one another. for our friends and those that may not have already been "there", it would serve as a ministry of our church. not one whose sole intention was to grow the church, necessarily, but one that might fill a need in our lives and those we could invite to "come out and play".

when i was 23 through about 29 or 30, i felt no shame in inserting myself in the heart of our softball line-up. i was never the biggest, but i could swing a pretty good bat, know where it was going most of the time and get on base 4 out of every 5 at-bats, if not more. in the field, i was equally confident. i had enough athletic wherewithal that i felt like i was a strength in the field, no matter what position i wrote myself into. the same went for the basketball court. no one would mistake me for being really good. i didn't play high school ball, but i was better than your average church-league guard. could probably shoot a lot better than most. dribble with both hands. see the court in ways that made me happy and proud at times. i wanted to start every game, but chose not to. selfishly, i knew that would give me the credit i needed to finish every game, which is what's important.

the last couple years have been different, though. what little power i had has, more or less, gone away. i am no longer a homerun threat. and thus, probably a poor choice for third in our line-up. my shoulder has something wrong with it. i haven't gotten it checked out, because it doesn't keep me up at night or prevent me from doing anything, but there is discomfort every time i throw. the last couple of basketball seasons have shown similar drop-off. what little lateral quickness i did have is fading. i am having to find open spaces on the court by wheeling around screens that provide room that i can't make on my own. my confidence on the ball is waning. i don't want to run our point, because "kids" much younger than i can potentially make me a turnover liability.

losing what i once had was going to be hard enough. the glimpse of losing what was still to come this summer was, as i suggested, just poor timing i guess.

i am fragile, yet proud. neither of which has provided much ammunition against my fears and anxiety.

coming to terms with my physical limitations as i get "older" has never sounded so nice. if i could only get back to a place where things like that seemed important again.

off to therapy.