Nothing makes you feel every minute your age like a parkour gym filled with ninja warrior obstacles. Nothing.
Because I’ve never felt more 41, or maybe even felt more than 41, than today. At the gym. A couple different ways.
When I thought I could use the rings after watching my youngest flip upside down on them. Like, of course I can do that. No sweat. At all.
And then I thought for a second I might be able to reach the swinging rings after watching Ron slice right through them with his crazy wingspan. Big nope to that, again. But I tried. And then Riley also showed me how it’s done. I couldn’t even get to the second ring with my short arms.
I did manage to get through the obstacle course. I scaled the warped wall, but didn’t dismount real gracefully. I floated down onto the bubble mat thing just fine. But the little maniacs did some bigger moves than me.
But other than that, I was 41. Every second of 41, even as Ron did stuntman style falls with ease. And the kids killed those rings and uneven bars and floating rectangle thing and the trampolines.
I was good for a laugh.
And the whole thing was good for an amazing sweat. And since Ron turned 40 earlier that day, it was a good reminder for him that he can so do anything. I know, he’s rolling his eyes right this second, but he really can.
I tried to jump, with the help of a super bouncy trampoline, onto a ledge. And I made it, but only after slamming into the wall in a full-stop of momentum. He jumped and scaled the whole wall without leaning on the wall. Like, box jump style.
So, whatever. We can’t all be ninja warriors. But we can pretend. And make funny rage faces. And laugh about it later when we play it all back and hear our own laughter in slow motion.