There is a dangerous little asshole that moves into your brain around the time that you hit your forties.

He/she lies to you.

Constantly.

The biggest lie it tells is this:

You?re still athletic.

Not in shape.

Not flexible.

Not healthy.

Athletic.

This lie always shows up when you see a ball.

Football. Softball.

Basketball.

Doesn?t matter.

Your brain flashes back to 1998 and goes, I got this shit!

Your body was not consulted.

So someone tosses a ball and says, ?Think you can still run??

That question is a fuckin trap.

You don?t answer it.

Your body just reacts like it heard a starter pistol.

I took off running like I was being chased by bees.

Chest out.

Arms pumping.

Confidence sky high.

For about six seconds.

Then my lungs slammed the emergency brake.

My knees started snapping, crackling, and popping like a bowl of Rice Krispies being fucked by a jackhammer.

My body quietly whispered, "We do not do this anymore".

But here?s the problem.

People are watching.

So now you can?t stop.

You keep running while your legs feel like they?re being repossessed by the bank.

Your stride turns into tiny angry steps.

Your breathing sounds like a shop vac full of gravel.

Your face is redder than a boiled lobster's butt hole.

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears like a drum solo at a biker rally.

When I finally stopped, I wasn?t tired.

I thought I was dying!

Hands on knees.

Head down.

Seeing stars.

Re-evaluating every decision I?ve ever made.

Someone had the nerve to ask, ?You okay??

No.

I am not fuckin okay!

I have just visited the afterlife, and it smells like liniment, regret, and old hockey bags.

When I tried to stand up straight, my hamstring locked so hard I thought it was trying to crawl out of my ass to escape.

I did that fake normal walk while secretly bargaining with God.

I will stretch.

I will hydrate.

I will never sprint again.

Please don?t take my legs.

That night, I sat on the couch, and my body fused itself into one solid piece of furniture.

Standing up required a countdown.

Sitting down was a controlled fall.

At one point, I dropped something on the floor and just stared at it.

That thing lives there now.

That was the moment I learned something important.

You are not still athletic.

???Definitely not!

You are experienced.

And experience says warm the fuck up, stretch like your life depends on it, and never try to prove shit in sneakers you mow the lawn in.

???????????????...and that's callin' it like it is!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Canadian artist & digital troublemaker Colin John Cook shares his louder-than-life, awkward, and honest-as-hell stories. Packed with humour, real talk & creative insights in a no filter, digital comedy space that laughs at life & calls it like it is. He is also the Founder and President of

The Hidden Gallery - Art Studio & Micro Theatre