So, my body is getting older, but...

I am convinced my inner teenager is trying to burst free from my Crossfitting, run-down, exhausted, 35 year old body. 

First let me tell you that I am sore today.  Keep in mind, I like feeling sore after a Crossfit work out.  It makes me feel like I have accomplished something.  Today I did power cleans and squats (that's just a fancy, meat head way of saying I lifted weights), did some running, sit ups and pull ups...and I am feeling every bit of every exercise.  My body knows it is 35, but my head, not so much.

I have been noticing that I am starting to become a 16 year old in some of my tastes in music, in my tastes in books and in what I do.  I can not believe I am writing this, but I find myself listening to the local teeny bopper station, 96.1 KISS fm.  Every city in the country has a KISS station, you know the one that most 35 year olds bypass because Ryan Seacrest  annoys the crap out of them, yep, I am listening to that one more and more (I feel like I am cheating on Dave Matthews).

I find that I actually know some of the songs by heart, which is not good for my kids, as they do not care for my singing.  They do, however, love when I dance with them (no I will not dance for you...ok, maybe I will).

My taste somehow went from classic rock and alternative rock to crap rock and *shudder* Katy Perry.  I apologize to all 35 year olds out there, I am truly sorry.

Unfortunately, my inner teenager has not stopped at music, he has decided that my taste in "literature", I use quotes because I can not really consider what I am reading to be real literature, should become decidedly YA, or young adult.

It is not like I was reading the classics before, tho I did love Sherlock Holmes, but I was reading a lot of non-fiction.  Then I started to delve into some fiction that was more adult in nature (no, not romance novels...yet) like The Millennium Trilogy and A Song of Fire and Ice.  From there I went were no 35 year old should go...The Hunger Games.  The sad thing is I loved it.  I could write a 25,000 word review on why the first two books were so good and the third was terrible.  After the Hunger games it was on to Prince of Thorns and now I am devouring Divergent (sorry Billy Shakespeare).  I am happy that I have started some YA stuff and had to just close it forever...coughAshfallisterriblecough.

Now we get into my inner teenager's desire to be out in public...ugh, I hate him (can I call him Charlie, that seems like a teenager kinda name).  I go to Crossfit Latrobe just about every day, I take 1 or 2 days off a week.  I have no reason to wear the high socks (yep, I'm one of those guys), but I do.  I have no reason doing cartwheels and round offs and back flips, but I am, because I am a moron. 

If my children saw me attempting to do some of the exercises, like a pull up, they would disown me and beg me to never go out in public.  They are going to love when I pick them up from the mall in my sweaty, high-sock gym clothes (so excited for that!).

I am writing a blog...I do not think I need to expound on that.

I am going out more than I did in my twenties, so clearly my inner teenager felt I was too much of a homebody.  I have very little problem staying out late and getting up early (my stupid inner alarm clock gets me up at 6:30, every...freaking...day).  I have been able to recover from my beverages of choice in a fairly decent way (I think it is because my liver was rested for so long).

So while I applaud my inner teenager for the energy, passion and enthusiasm, I may have to ground you (I hope you sneak out).

A face only a mother can love...