First one to guess what O.A.F stands for gets a medal. Don’t get too excited, it’s just a used shitty medal from my childhood—a badminton medal to be exact. Ya that’s right I played badminton, and field hockey, cross-country running, track and field, golf, volleyball, soccer, basketball—I even skipped T-ball and went straight to baseball cause that’s just how I roll. (Perhaps I will talk later about how this line-up of youth sports provided zero assistance to my life as a recreational fitness racer.)
You know what I don’t do anymore? Any of these activities because I am OLD AS FUCK. (O.A.F). Did you guess it? Congrats, you win a medal as well as my love of being able to solve sweet ass abreves.
I tried to continue playing ladies league soccer and basketball for awhile, but turns out my bod is just too geriatric for that kind of time domain. 90 minutes of running around on a hard surface with aggressive women slide tackling me…thanks, but no thanks.
My mom is going to read this and be so offended. “Kel, you don’t need to use the word old. If you are calling yourself old, what does that make me?”
Well mom, my body feels old. Since turning 30 it’s been nothing but a downhill spiral of events that include: stiffness, joint pain, constant muscle soreness, hot/cold baths, Homedic self massagers #sponsorme, epsom salts and glucosamine. The other day on a hike I saw some hardcore hikers with professional grade walking poles and felt sincere envy. I also thought to myself, “my arms might get too tired holding a pole.”
Where am I going with this you ask?
No where really. This post has no value other than my being a salty little biotch. Maybe some peeps out there can relate and share in my misery as we grow old together.
How to tell if you are in fact O.A.F
Everything hurts, all the time.
I’m just sore, everyday, all day. Once a day at work someone asks me if I’m limping. I mean…I don’t think so, I guess this is just how I walk now.
I legit gave myself whiplash yesterday because my muscle up was likely too aggressive and jarring for what my old body could handle. Real sweet life.
You’re the old one.
I’m basically the oldest person I train with. These young kids, they have so much god damn energy, just never sore. Lets do another workout they say…in a weight vest they say. Meanwhile I need to head home and drink a nice glass or warm tumeric tea.
Recovery is NOT on fleek.
After a heavy lift day it legit takes me a week to recover. Heavy DL’s….like, lets just schedule a vacation for after because I clearly won’t be able to participate in fitness for awhile. I remember the good old days when I used to bounce right back. Recovery aint no thang…I used to say. Mobility, who dat?
I wake up at 6am on Saturdays and Sundays. This geriatric body is just ready to get up and play some solitaire. HAhah…I don’t even know how to play solitaire, but I should probably learn.
Like…the moment I wake up in the morning I am dreaming of taking a nap. I have no time for naps, but I really wish I did. How da fuq am I going to survive motherhood?????!!! Do I still have eggs even?
I need 30 minutes MINIMUM to warm up. At our gym it seems to be common to just start the day without warming up. One minute pigeon stretch…ok great, max lift time. Like WTF!!! This body needs to lube up. These creeky ass joints can not lift things cold, ya dig?
I used to like to go fast, and do lots of reps at lighter loads. But now, high volume reps, speed and time in the dark place ruins me. Really heavy things clearly also ruin me. I just want to slug along really. Can we stop racing and just feel happy participating?
This seems like an appealing activity, no? Just hanging out with my other geriatric pals, splashing around in the water with a floaty belt, really working those hammies! Other than the fact that I would rather jump off a bridge than wear a bathing suit in public.
Skirted bathing suits.
The last item made me think…skirted bathing suits are probably acceptable at my age? Fun floral patterns, pastel colour pallets, what’s not to be excited about?!!! That sweet full bodied suit and decorative skirt will probably accent my figure just right.
If you can relate to this list of feels, well my friends, you are in fact O.A.F.
If you are still feeling mobile, full of energy and have a zest for life and all the activities it has to offer, free of injury and self-inflicted whiplash, congratulations, you are a true champion.
In all seriousness, I know I am not really old and if you read this and are offended, my most sincere apologies. We are only as old as we feel and age is totally a mindset. It’s just unfortunate that I feel like a big ol’ bag of stale cheese biscuits (re: reference to last weeks post) and kind of look like one too.
Maybe the key to overcoming this obstacle is having a tan. Commence #Jackedandtanplan2017