Getting Old….er?


Two years ago this week, Mr. Dirty returned from a six month deployment to Afghanistan. I try not to be one of “those wives” – the poor me, look how hard we have it military wives. But I’ll be honest with you, that deployment was brutal. We experienced several deaths, emergency room visits, Dirty Diva’s high school graduation – you name it; it happened. When he came home (fit and trim with bad 80’s hair), we needed to refresh & refill our spirits…

So, we flew to Washington State to visit the not-so-dirty in laws. What better place is there to relax than with family. We were spoiled – with food, love & attention. While we were there, we tried to hike as much as possible in the Olympics.

There are very few places on Earth that rivals the beauty of the Olympic Mountains. I could wax poetic about the sheer awesomeness, but I would rather show you these pictures:




See what I mean? Amazing. The most spectacular of these hikes was the Copper Creek Trail.

Clear mountain streams, abundant flora and fauna…. excruciating knee pain.

Yup. Knee pain. It sucks the life out of a hiker like nothing else. Through research – yes, I self-diagnosed… don’t judge me – I’ve discovered a possible cause. I believe (only believe because I am not a doctor) that my problem is with my illiotibial band. This God awful pain is on the outside of my left knee and occurs mostly on down hills.

Down hill used to be fun. I started using hiking poles to take some of the stress off my knees. I’ve decreased my pack weight. I’ve even changed my shoes!! (Suprisingly, certain shoes cause more pain. I can hike pain free in Teva sandals, but Keen shoes make me want to gnaw off my own leg).

Finally, I broke down and went to see the doctor. Aren’t you proud? You should be! You have no idea what a giant step that was for me. (I. Don’t. Like. Doctors.) I’m not a good patient. I admit that without hesitation. Want to know what the doctor said?

He looked me square in the face (and without a smirk or anything!) and said, “You’re getting old.”

Apparently, the look on my face was enough to frighten him just a little because he added, “…er. Older. I mean, it’s not like you are still twenty.”

(That’s me at twenty. The one on the left.)

You would think that would be enough, but you would be wrong. Apparently, it was also important to let me know that when we get old-er, our bodies start to hurt in new ways.

Thanks, Doc.

2 thoughts on “Getting Old….er?

  1. I will TOTALLY slap him for you. You’re not that kind of old! (Like me, you’re the Oh-Woe-Is-Me-I’m-Slightly-Older-Than-I-Wish-I-Was kind of old…you know, like those Army Wife Types. Lol.)

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