Tonight, Nancy and I took the kiddos to work out at the fitness center we just joined. I’ve never been one that really enjoys running, biking, or other kinds of “exercise”, so I grabbed a ball made my way to the basketball court.
Hoops. Hardwood. Squeaking shoes. Thumping balls.
Home.
You see, basketball has always been the team sport I’ve most enjoyed playing. I shot hoops for hours each day during the summer as a kid. Worked my rear off to try to be the best player I could be. I was never the best by any means, but the joy of the sport has always been there.
So I couldn’t resist tonight. After shooting with my girls for a while, I was invited to play two-on-two with three college kids.
The result was fairly predictable.
I’m old, fat, slow, and out of shape. Two games nearly killed me, and youth as a whole outplayed experience.
But there were flashes of old. Draining an open three. Posting up on the tall kid guarding me, getting him to leave his feet with a shot fake, and ducking underneath for a layup. Driving to the hoop off a screen, and laying it in left-handed.
It was a blast.
But now reality sinks in.
Hoops earlier = hurts later.
My aging body just can’t do the things it used to.
One of these days I’ll learn.
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