January 20, 2012

Falling apart

I am.

Before the shouts of "you're getting Old!" start flowing in, I know. But I still feel like things are falling apart at an increasing speed, geometric as opposed to the linear progression I was expecting.

My vision has obviously been deteriorating for some time, but it feels like in the last few weeks it has fallen off a cliff. The computer screen wears on me that much quicker, and the print of a book seems just a little swimmier. A customer at work asked if I needed glasses. I was in the middle of something, so I didn't really hear the question, but I must have been holding something at arm's length to read it.

There seems to be a pressure at the top of my eyeballs at all times now. It is probably just the fact that I have been diagnosed and glasses are probably only a few days away. Just like everything else, now that I am thinking about it, the problem has moved from the back to the front of my brain. It has me looking forward to glasses rather than dreading them (though I am sure there will be complaints nonetheless).

And Oy my back! My lower back, glutes, and hamstrings have been tweaked for weeks. Always a little sore after a long run, the strain has not gone away since my 21 miler a couple weeks ago. I wake up sore and tight, and the muscles never seem to loosen up. I haven't run since Tuesday, hoping that I can rest the weary muscles for the marathon on Sunday, but work had different ideas. There was the normal hundred times up and down a ladder to strain the legs, but throw in a jackhammer, concrete and brick work and I am feeling a little beat up.

I guess what bothers me is that I am not doing anything more physical than I was a few months ago (probably less to be honest), but my body is worse for it. Time is having its way no matter how I strain to deny it.

The marathon starts in some 35 hours, and I feel like I am limping to the start line. It will be cold, and this strained hamstring may determine how the day goes. There is a four mile hill early on, and it is possible that I might be done in by mile 10. But there is something about race day that pushes the pain back to the background, and it may just carry me through.

I want to show up healthy, but most importantly, walk away healthy. I would like to tell you that I will show up at the start line accepting of my limitations, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't going to look at my watch. Time marches on whether I accept it or not, but I will try to mark time in moments and memories, instead of minutes and maladies.

If you would like to follow along, you can jump on the marathon website for live tracking of the runners. The direct link is this one I believe, but you can also find a link on the marathon website. My bib number is 421, and the other Sean's is 683.

And I am getting older, not Old.

1 comment:

Me said...

I hear you. I'm seriously thinking of the chain that hooks onto my glasses so I can hang them around my neck. I'm putting it off as long as possible.