It pains me. It hurts in a way that is unfamiliar and I’m going to say is fundamentally wrong. I missed the best day of the year, because of a bitchy knee and a sore elbow.
I built my life in large part to be perennially available for the big powder day, that quick weather window, the last-minute run to Burning Man…in short, to be ready to play at a moment’s notice.
Enter torn tendons in my left elbow and some sort of patellar-tracking drama. The elbow keeps me from climbing and the damn knee thing has me in the gym doing rehab instead of cage fighting, drag racing, and pegging the fun-meter in thigh deep.
I turned 40 this year and thought I was doing pretty well. Think again. Peter Pan complex meet middle age. Let the battle begin.