Kicking and Screaming

I’m not 12 anymore.

It’s a bitter reality that I’m struggling to deal with, but just six weeks before my 26th birthday it’s ultimately sinking in. That being said, it’s often mentioned by those around me that I’ve got the brains of a 20-something, the body of a 40-something and the maturity level of a 12-year-old. I can’t really argue there; all valid points, indeed.

But now it’s kickball season. And although we’re playing a child’s game in a very adult fashion (you’re either hungover, drunk or drinking at the field), it’s still a game – and a game I plan on winning! Our team name is Red Ball and Vodka and while we’re in the “rookie” division we still take competition seriously.

And that’s where my problem lies. Have you ever seen a grown man cry over kickball? You should have seen me Sunday. Well, I wasn’t literally crying, per se, but rather writhing in pain after straining my quad (such is the life when you fail to stretch before an adult kickball game).

But like I said, I’m not 12 anymore. So if that means stretching for 20 minutes before a 50-minute kickball game, it’s better than dealing with the hideous pain I’m feeling now.