A Birthday Run

This weekend I celebrated a birthday. While it wasn’t any significant milestone, which I consider an age ending in zero or five because that means a new racing group, I am a year older.


I certainly feel it, too. I went out for a celebratory run early on my birthday through the streets of East LA, as I was visiting the area for the weekend. I climbed the hills of Pasadena, waved at Mark Feuerstein of “Royal Pains” fame as he ran with his dog in Runyon Canyon and saw Lance Bass speed by in a sparkling white Mercedes. It felt so good to get out and run on my special day. I even picked up the pace down a significant hill, sprinting at a speed much faster than usual.

I returned to my friends’ home flushed, sweating and with a big smile on my face. What a way to start day one of a new age!

Then the next day came. My legs were so sore and it hurt to even try to straighten them out. I wanted a massage and cursed lactic acid. I rubbed them with lotion, tried self-myofascial release with a foam roll and wore my comfortable shoes, despite my desire to wear the new pair of heels I received for my birthday.

I was tired, too. All I wanted to do was sleep. Is this what old age feels like? Although I have a new age to write on doctor’s forms, I really was only a day older than the previous day. But as much as I loathe to admit, this has been happening for the past couple of years. I’ve reached an age where my body doesn’t recover the same way. I used to run eight miles a day with no energy lost. Now I run five miles and my body aches.

Yes, this is what old age feels like. And I don’t like it.

I’ve decided to start eating healthier, banning that second Diet Coke during the day and turning to water to stay flushed out so that my running doesn’t feel so weighted down. I’ll try to stretch more often after I run as I can feel my muscles tighten as I age.

Although I can’t turn back the hands of Father Time, I can try to slow them down.