I've had a few "wake up, you're old" moments lately.
Most of them have come during one of my classes. Apparently my heart and brain still think I'm an 8 year old. I want to play all the fun games the kids get to! I think they look like a lot of fun...and I think..."no problem, 5 year olds can do it, so can I!"
Last week, the Kindergartners really wanted me to join them in playing scooter basketball. It looked like they were having a blast, so I thought I'd join them too. No big deal. I'm in shape. Sort of. I mean, I can run 13 miles no problem, so, scooting up and down the gym chasing the basketball, easy, right?
Turns out old people aren't meant for those things. It's not good on the hips. The hips? What, am I 90? After 15 minutes of Scooter Basketball, Coach Amanda couldn't walk...for three days.
Then there was tag.
Tag. Remember that? Run around like a maniac, get tagged, sit down, wait to get tagged back in. When we were kids we could play: freeze tag, tunnel tag, TV tag...for HOURS. Jumping up and down, sprinting all over our back yards. So this afternoon when the 3rd graders dared me to "tag me out! bet you can't catch me!" I thought back to 1988 and said, "game on."
Tonight? My back hurts so bad I waddle when I walk to get a glass of water.
What's worse? My forearms hurt from flailing a noodle around to use as a tagger today.
Phys Ed isn't for wussies.
