An Athlete's Time

     I have been an athlete. I played college baseball. Post-graduate, I weight lifted, jogged, ran, sprinted, played tennis (predominantly singles), basketball, did elliptical, walked, hiked, bicycled (indoors and outdoors), swam. I played softball. And on the day before my 42nd birthday, I played my final baseball game against 21 year olds and younger.

     As I write this, I am 66 years old. I have endured a myriad of injuries related to sports leading to multiple surgeries since 1989, including 4 to my right shoulder. The last one has not healed like I wanted and the pain is only lightened by a recent cortisone shot. Presently I cannot go to the gym, reducing me to 3 miles of walking on a cold and windy early December day at the local track.

     I was weight lifting, biking and running only a couple of weeks ago. My body was in fairly good shape. I had even played tennis a couple of times, the first serious attempts at the sport since a foot injury followed by shoulder discomfort. After swimming for the first time in over a year and then doing weights the next day, all of sudden there was irritation and pain  near the surgical site. I thought this would never happen again.

     Instead, I look at my age and condition and wonder--is my time of being a gym rat over? As hard as I have worked, the countless hours of rehab and therapy--have I reached the end of the line as an athlete?

     I have done a great job of staying inside of a 34-36 inch waist for the last few years. But my weight has increased corresponding to my exercising or lack thereof. I feel bloated and heavier when I do not make it to the gym or run; undoubtedly some of this is psychological.

     With my current shoulder condition, I just want to return to normal activities--like typing this blog--without pain. Of course, there is the return to sports--will it happen or am I destined to be a walker for the remainder of my life?

     I look at so many professional athletes as they got older and how out of shape they appear to be. Contrastingly, I look at the number of men and women running at my age or older, or the ones playing tennis in the morning as part of their retirements. I know I am envious as I long thought that I would be one of them--so much so that I figured this last surgery would make the dream a reality and I would be swimming, hitting hard ground strokes and jogging merrily around the track. Not so fast.

     Am I resigned to the fact that my days of competition and self-regulation in the gym are over? Even with a vastly different diet, will I turn into another fat ex-jock?

     I recognize that my situation is nothing compared to so many others who have far worse conditions than I do.  Their plights are almost unimaginable.

     Which is why I complain about my shoulder and the attendant pain--I am not quite ready to cede my ability to stay in shape. But if I can no longer swim, play tennis or run without it hurting, then I look no further than in the mirror to say that I will be the best walker I can be for as long as I can walk comfortably.

     Then and only then will I have stopped being the athlete.  You can take away the tennis court or the gym but where there is a spirit to live this life to the fullest, then count me in.