30 is the new 80

In just three short months I will be waving goodbye to my twenties. I spent the first portion of this year feeling horrible about it. There's just something about being able to say I have accomplished all of these things - marriage, children, home ownership, fab career - and I am still so young. But once you hit 30 people sort of expect a certain level of achievement. I would no longer be impressive. But my mood changed over the last several weeks as I embarked on a journey to get into the best shape of my life before the big day. I am happy to say I am well on my way. Or at least I was, until yesterday...

It had been a long day for sure. I worked both rush hour shifts (4am-9am and 2pm-7pm) so I was quite exhausted by the time I sat my wary tushy on the pleather Metra bench to head home for the night. My legs were feeling a bit restless and I was struggling to find a comfortable position. I decided to cross my legs. Simple enough. I do it all the time, and most people would not injure themselves in doing so. Especially not one who is allegedly on her way to being in the best shape of her life, right? Well, I swung the left leg over the right and heard a faint popping sound and felt a pain only comparable to that of having your leg chewed off by a hungry wolf. WTF?

I didn't want to squeal like a drowning piglet since I was surrounded by my fellow commuters, so I sucked it up and limped my way home assuming I could just "sleep it off". That usually works for me. And, after all, I was just crossing my legs. I couldn't have caused that much damage. Only, when I woke up for another crazy day at 2am it appeared to have worsened. Oh dear lord. Note to self: must text Boop and tell her she is a f!#*ing liar. She said I would start falling apart AFTER 30.

I hobbled my way into the studio and did my best to pretend like everything was A-OK. The last thing I want to be is THAT girl who whines about every creak and crack her bones make, especially not this early in the aging game. I pulled it off until about 8am when it was time to remove the door stop from the studio door to lock out the noise of office people coming in for the days work. I dropped to the squat position and immediately howled out in pain. There was that popping again. At this point I had to admit what was ailing me. I was speaking to folks literally twice my age, maybe a little less in some cases, and they likely had no sympathy for me since they had their own horror stories to tell. This time the pain was intense and I basically dragged my leg Quasimodo-style back to my car to head home. Again, WTF?

This would all be upsetting enough on its own, but there is the added pressure of the big NOCC Illinois Chapter Walk to Break the Silence this weekend. I am the captain of a team of 14 and NOTHING should stand in my way of strutting for a good cause. Jesika, one of the gals we are walking in honor of, would be laughing her snarky ass off at this tale of deterioration were she still around. I guess that part makes me smile. But the question remains: will I be pushing Rosebud in her stroller down the walk route or will she be pushing me?

Guess its time for my girls to start earning a living. Looks like momma will need to be cared for much earlier than anticipated.