It creeps up on you, man.

If you don't already know, I'm in a branch of AmeriCorps called Public Allies: that's really a whole other blog post to explain, I'm just going to talk about something I realized with this last training that I just came back from.

Most of my fellow Allies are a fair degree younger than me.  That's to be expected, most of the time in just about any situation I've been in this is the case.  It's never a big deal, I certainly never feel 35 in the least 99% of the time.  I still look reasonably young for my age.  I don't feel awkward or like I don't fit in to the group because of age or anything like that.

This was our third in person training.  For our trainings, we go to Boone to the YMCA Camp, and it is AWESOME.  Middle of the woods, fires, friends, Mike (the awesome Y Camp staff/honorary Ally), learning, laughing, it's an amazing experience and every time I go and come back I come back a little bit better.

But.

Or maybe I should say, Butt.

I've now been there three times, and every time I get there and think, "Oh crap.  Not the chairs again."

I'm skinny; it is what it is.  Probably the worst part of being skinny is I. Have. No. Butt.  I often speak of the best way to make me talk about anything: put me on a hard chair and I'll say anything.  ANYTHING!!!  Just give me a cushion to sit on, dammit!!

"What of the floor?" you might say.  Well, since it IS camp and we ARE in the middle of the woods, the floor is carpeted, yes--but it's industrial carpet.  Flat.  Hard.  Not Comfy At All.  BUT, occasionally slightly less uncomfortable than the hard plastic chairs.

I figured out that if I sat on the floor, on my hat, it wasn't so terrible--terrible yes; but not so much so.  However...I was sitting on the floor, making an entirely futile attempt to find a comfortable spot (HA!) when I felt something shift slightly and then a...

Well, I don't know what to call it.  A pinched nerve?  Something out of joint?  A pulled muscle?  All I know is that my body was calling FULL STOP on me sitting that particular way that never bothered me in the least before.  I moved carefully, quickly to minimize the damage, and it eased up and I was okay.  I did that exactly one more time when we were down there.  I NEED TO REMEMBER TO TAKE A SPARE PILLOW.  Nobody will judge me for having no butt.

The other thing that happened was that I (for some stupid reason, even though I knew we'd be outside) didn't wear my winter boots, which I sure could have used.  I keep forgetting to take care of myself, of my toes, so they don't get as cold--they'll get cold, that's no question.  We were in the woods building survival huts out of branches and leaves and oh lord, no leaf lined shelter, warm and cozy though they may be, could keep my toes safe if I was stuck out there in the elements.

As I said to someone, it's hard to remember to take care of myself, that I am not as young as I used to be.  Am I old?  Oh lord, no.  Am I as young and limber and full of pep as I used to be?  No.  Do I still have a bony butt?  Yes, yes I do.

It was a fantastic two days though, but it was also nice to come back to have dinner with the dude, a nice hot shower (I could have showered there, but eh, it was just one overnight) and now I'm snuggled in bed with the cat and my handy dandy back massager on my poor old spine...

It sneaks up on you, that age thing.  It's slow, but effective, and real, but not entirely awful.