Aged 59-and-a-half, I’ve wintered way too well and those ankle ligaments strained way back in November are still not right. But it’s just a twinge now and as the evenings stretch, the senescent sap is rising in my strung-out hamstrings. My Wednesday night indoor soccer game is calling me back.
How dignified is it to be still drawn to that draughty old sports hall to run … trundle … around red-faced and panting and kicking ball for an hour with similarly deluded/evergreen old boys? Sure even my 10-year-old son told me I have no pace. And he wasn’t slagging, merely observing.
When is it over? Continue reading