It’s a kind of wisdom, right, learning to maintain boundaries. Not boredom, or sad-sack aging, but wisdom, right? I’ve done something to my leg. Strained a muscle or pulled something. Anyway, it hurts. And last night, wrapping the thing, stretching, hearing the soccer ball wallop against the partitions, I debated with my Inner Competitor.
“I.C., if you sit out tonight, you might feel better midweek. You might even be able to take a run … or walk without a limp.”
“Wouldn’t you like to walk pain free?”
“You hiked this morning, I.C., and shot baskets this afternoon, so it’s not like you’re decrepit or anything.”
“Oh,” I.C. comments, “thanks very much.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes,” with venom. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Two girls just happened to volunteer to play with our team. So, I did sit out. On the sideline. The entire 44 minutes. I have yet to get out of bed this morning, but I fully anticipate being able to walk when I do. I guess that’s something.