Perpetually Sore

I’m in the best shape of my life right now; I don’t mean that as a brag, more as a fact. I have never been stronger, leaner, and had healthier than right now. I run long distances again, like I did when I was in high school, but I also have gotten into weightlifting and salads. I am in so many ways healthier than I have ever thought I could be and am very proud of it.

On the other hand, I am in my early 30’s now. I am acutely aware of my age and wonder how long this can truly last. How many more gains can be made?

My wife and I were walking past a TV playing the Lakers/Nuggets playoff game this weekend, and they were highlighting an insane block that Lebron had. I commented that he was 39 and she couldn’t confound it. To still have that energy and feel to make plays like that, when he’s been doing it for so long is jaw-dropping.

I wake up every morning sore. Every morning. If I did something I’m especially proud of, like a long a run, it hurts to exist that much more the next day. My wife takes Advil before bed to make sure she is not woken up by a cramped muscle or Charlie Horse or just general DOMS during the night.

It’s a weird balance to know that on the one hand we are both so much healthier than we’ve been in the last decade or so and yet there is a general air that we probably did this too late. We are not in our 20’s; we left youth and now are just trying to survive. We didn’t get that time where we were in peak physical condition at 25; we weren’t taking care of ourselves then.

As much as eating clean is a choice to be healthier, it’s also more of an adjustment because eating things like sugar and bread make us feel hungover the next day. There isn’t a bigger plan or aspiration at play here, we just are realizing our body’s can no longer handle the abuse.

To know it’s close to over before it even started. That’s what I’m reminded daily. That’s what my sore muscles are telling me every morning. When my shoulders ache and knees creak. I may have felt like Superman yesterday from some workout I did, but I will pay the price today.

When you start to look at my values, vanity does sneak itself in there if I’m being honest. I want to look good. I’ve struggled with that concept my whole life. I’ve been deeply insecure on weight and looks since a child.

And when I say I didn’t take care of myself in my 20’s, I mean I lost 70 pounds last year at the age of 30. And I had no plan of doing that throughout my 20’s – I just kept gaining weight, eating and drinking.

And that’s the thing I am aware of too. With each sore muscle – it’s a reminder that my looks and fitness level are going to be different than what I anticipate. Whatever Greek god, Jason Momoa I want to be, let’s go ahead and lower expectations.

Not to say I am not proud of how I look or my progress. It’s just that for every inch I lose on my pants, I see another batch of grey hairs. While my biceps grow, so do my wrinkles.

There’s something heathy in there. It forces me to celebrate the practical things health brings me, sweating less, not being out of breath taking stairs, and just enjoying being outside and moving. It’s a blessing.

It’s also just humbling and omnipresent. My soreness has taken a new meaning. It’s a daily reminder of my aging, first thing I feel when I wake up. I’m no spring chicken anymore. And the fear appears. What happens next? How much muscle can I grow until it gets considerably harder? How long can I really run like this? I spent my whole 20’s thinking they would last forever, only to transition to my 30’s – working to strengthen myself for when I can’t anymore.