My body is becominging increasingly fragile. Pathetic, is the word I was tempted to use, but fragile will serve in it’s place. I’m worried about taking stairs, jumping in general, running, cartwheeling, kicking and stretching because I’m either worried my knees will give out or I’ll do further damage to the tendons of my pelvis. Day by day, I’m losing it. "It"? What is "it"? Perhaps it’s my abilities as a martial artist/free runner. Perhaps it’s my faith in my body. Or perhaps it’s sometime entirely different. All I can tell is that, slowly but surely, it’s draining.
I don’t want to be a young cripple. I don’t want my body to give up on itself. I don’t want to take the escalator, I don’t want to have to walk around, I don’t want to stop training. So I won’t. I’m going to resist the deterioration, imagined or real, as much as I can. I will be the champion I know I am, deep inside. And maybe, like Bruce Lee, I can prove everyone wrong and get up and start dancing.
You know? Someone once told me that young people think they’re invincible. The older and more ‘fragile’ I get, I see that person was right. But if it means having to take the escalator, I say screw you. I’m better than that.