Recently, it has come to my attention that I simply can't do the same things that I used to do, even at the tender age of 20. When you're in high school, the mere thought of getting old was something of a joke. Never did I think that after-school soccer and track practices would sound like an absolute nightmare nowadays. I don't really know what happened, but now whenever I go to workout or do anything physical, the struggle becomes increasingly apparent.

After a recent visit to my grandparent's home, I noticed that they too could not do certain normal functions that they were once accustomed to. For example, my grandmother asked me to help her change a few dead light bulbs, which of course I happily obliged. My grandmother explained to me how, being in her eighties, there are just certain things that she can't do anymore.

Then it struck me: if I think about the best shape I could possibly be in right now, it wouldn't even compare to the form I was in during high school. For the past semester, I have been going to the gym at least 4-5 times a week and I still am nowhere near what I was just a short 2 years ago.

Yet, on the car ride home I drew comparisons to my own perceived bodily degradation.

I think the main difference between "getting older" struggles when you are in your twenties versus the eighties is the subtlety of it. I remember a time when I would actually look forward to running seven miles at track practice after school. Now, getting to the gym takes a whole series of mental preparations and inspiration from the imminent Chipotle that I'll probably reward myself with afterward.

However, in comparison, those same mental preparations that I need to get myself to the gym are applied to the most simple tasks such as changing a light bulb or even just getting up and walking around when you're in your eighties. I look at myself in the mirror now and say, "wow, if it takes me this much effort to go to the gym now, imagine what it'll be like in 10 years!" That's a frightening thought to say the least.

Sometimes I think I'm just lazy for complaining about my bodily issues and aches but I can't hold back the notion that these pains didn't exist a short time ago. I mean I actually look at myself at times and ask if this is really the reality of getting older when I climb two flights of stairs and feel like I got sucker punched in the gut by Mike Tyson. It really is astonishing.

Then, when I consider what it must be like to be in the eighties, I come to the conclusion that all these hindrances that I am starting to feel now are going to become exponentially more annoying. Don't get me wrong, if you ask anyone that knows me well, they'll tell you I'm a big sit-down guy. But when I am actually confined to a chair I don't know how I'll manage.

I guess I'll just take all the sitting I do now as practice for when I'm old. Practice makes perfect and I always strive to be the best at whatever I do. By the time I'm 85, they'll be calling me the LeBron James of sitting in a recliner all day. Come to think of it, I actually might like being old.