As I have previously mentioned, having Elliott has not exactly done wonders for staying in shape. That becomes a more glaring statement when you realize that my pre-Elliott self was completely worthless for the remainder of the day after mowing the lawn. As interesting as this experiment has been to see just exactly how bad things can get for a person who was once so skinny his mother had to force-feed him yogurt every day after school, I'm not sure how much further it can go. You would think lugging around a 15-pound weight for eight hours a day would be a decent workout but all that has done at this point has given me bruises on my face from Elliott's repeated head-butts.

My attempts at running at 5:30 every morning have... well, to be kind to myself we'll say "tapered off." And so I have come to the conclusion that my exercise needs to come from something I actually enjoy doing. To date, I still refuse to come to terms with the fact that my body simply will not let me do what it could 15 years ago. Hence, over the weekend, I pulled off what my high school self wouldn't have thought twice about. However, my nearly 30-year-old self is still feeling the after effects.

On Sunday, I played less than an hour of low-impact 2-on-2 basketball then immediately got in my car and played nine holes of golf. And to prepare for this, I did my cursory 30 seconds of stretching and promptly thought "Yes, this should do the trick." My first warning came while I was warming up for basketball. During my first shot attempt, my left arm siezed up and I left my 12-footer about 11 feet short. But I fought through it.

For reference, people should probably understand how I play the game of basketball. I do ONE thing. I shoot outside jump shots. That's it. Fighting for rebounds, playing defense... psssh. That's how people get hurt and, frankly, that stuff isn't very fun. Now, in a game of 5-on-5, my skill set has at least a modicum of value as others can compensate for my deficiencies. In 2-on-2? Let's just say that my weaknesses are a bit more on display. My tactic in games like this has always been simple. Give my mark on defense 10 feet of cushion so that he can't blow by me for a lay-up. If a game comes down to who can make the most 15-footers, I'll feel OK about my chances. That being said, it's about as low-stress a style of basketball one can inflict on his body. It's pretty much a game of HORSE except occasionally I set a screen while running to a spot on the court and calling for the ball.

My second warning came after finishing our second game when my left leg completely buckled on the way to the drinking fountain. "Hmm, must be a dead spot in floor," I thought logically. After an hour, I climbed into my cramped car for 25 minutes en route to a golf course and promptly walked up to the first tee while taking a total of two practice swings. And thus my destiny was sealed. The following morning I had promptly destroyed both my upper and my lower body in a glorious feat of overextending one's physical limits.

Now, I have been sore before. My body is so tight I pulled my first muscle in grade school. After my first indoor soccer game a few years ago where I ignored my little brother's (the All-American runner) advice of "Whatever you do, don't make any long runs right off the bat" it took the entire week between games just to be able to walk again without a limp. But on Monday? Things had gone to a new level. You know things are bad when, after struggling to breath on Day 1 following The Incident, you wake up nearly two days removed from exercise and things are worse, as if your body couldn't fully make you aware of just how many muscles, joints and ligaments you abused with just one day of pain. You actually have to recover slightly to accurately assess exactly how bad things really were.

And yet, despite everything, I wanted nothing more than to get back on the golf course the following day despite the fact that I believe I actually heard my right quadricep let out a tiny scream when it saw my golf bag on Monday. And the next time I'm out there I'm pretty sure I will have convinced myself that I can simply swing away again with little to no consequences. It will be a sad day indeed when my brain finally starts agreeing with my body that I am, in fact, aging.