You know that moment when it really hits you that you are getting old?  If you haven’t, fuck you, go Snap Chat someone!  If you have, I feel ya.

My moment came last week when I had my consult with an Orthopedic Surgeon.  My options are no surgery and I am looking at a hip replacement in 6 months to 10 years, and surgery and I am STILL looking at a hip replacement but in 20 plus years.

Hip replacement!?  Wait, isn’t that for Grandmothers and great uncles who already walk with a stoop?  When did a 44 year old who has run 3 marathons, countless half marathons, and recently became a personal trainer become a candidate for hip surgery?  Well, now, I guess.

It turns out I have a labral tear (the cartilage connecting the hip bone to the socket), an injury common in distance runners.  Now to all my friends and family, you know who you are, who want to lecture, “I told you running was bad for you!”  I actually tore it initially before I even started training for marathons, and I re-injured it squatting heavy weights while on a break from running.   So, hah!  Honestly though, that doesn’t make me feel much better.

I won’t be driving for two weeks, I will be on crutches for four weeks, and my total rehab time is four months if I am lucky.  So if you hear of a Skokie mother of three half naked on crutches being chased by police, you will know who the perp is.  Because this hyperactive neurotic woman is guaranteed to go fucking mental at some point.  I will however, be accepting donations of margaritas, mojitos, and marijuana (for medicinal purposes only, of course!), so feel free to fight your way through my two big barking beasts on sentry duty – they actually just sniff and lick a lot – or just drop off your deliveries at the door.  Their barking will alert me.  I thank you in advance for your support.