52 and fragile too!

So I spent 2 years and 4 months learning the Korean martial art of Tae Kwon Do - literally: "hand foot way", or close to that. I started at the White Belt, or "no knowledge" belt, and progressed through many colored belts at the rate of 1 every 2 or 3 months. Along the way I learned how to do pretty moves like you saw in Karate Kid or Mulan (sort of), used my hands, feet, elbows, fingers, and head to break boards, and studied 1 on 1 sparring (kicking each other until somebody gets hurt) and overall kicking - front, side, back, high, low, spinning, and jumping.

Also along the way I hurt myself frequently and substantially. I stubbed toes, rolled ankles, tore muscles, sprained wrists, cut my hands and feet, suffered headaches, and finally, broke my arm. You see, the problem for me is that I am 52. Most of my Tae Kwon Do classmates are between 6 and 16. A few are between 18 and 20, and a couple are in their 30's. One other person is also 52, and that person has experienced damages along the lines of those I regularly incur. We get to stretching, jumping, kicking, and practicing form movements, and suddenly in my head I am 18 again. If the kid in front of me kicks a board held over his head, I see no reason that I cannot reach a board the same height. I try. Not quite. I try again. I am certain I can do it! I give the good Korean scream which means "one of us is going to die right here right now!", and I jump and kick with everything I've got! POP - uh, oh, something's not right in my left calf...PPPPPAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Voila, I am on the ground, writhing. The Master of the school rushes over. He can fix me. Unfortunately, the method he uses has been banned by the Geneva Convention. He palms several short acupuncture needles. He lifts my leg straight up into the air as I lie on my back. I scream louder. He pays no attention, and begins swatting his palm, needles out, into my torn calf. WOWWWWOOOOOWWWWOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWW!
And he doesn't stop. Every now and then he does pause and wipe his hands on a towel. I see blood. Blood on his hands, blood on the towel. Where is he getting it from? HA! He has made my calf a pin cushion!. He finishes and we towel remaining blood off my leg. We wrap the calf in ace bandage. I am about 3 weeks healing up from that one. Who knows, without the acupuncture I may have been 4 or 5 or 6 weeks. Oh, did I mention I could barely walk for 2 weeks?

Once recovered I'm back to spraining joints and pulling muscles. Finally, after 2 years and some months I am ready to test for the Black Belt! I am psyched. I am ready. I do 100 pushups. I do 100 jumping jacks. I do 100 of several other exercises each. I do forms. I demonstrate kicks, and then I am ready for the finale: breaking boards. "How many" they ask, as I flex my macho fist. I am going to demonstrate my strength, speed, dexterity, and pure power! "FOUR", says I! "Are you sure?" "Do you want three?"
"FOUR" I affirm.
Right arm up.
Focus
Concentrate
Screammmmm KiiiiiiYAAAAA! The boards split like kindling. I am triumphant!
Hmmm. The arm feels funny - it's tingling and aching. What a smack I delivered!
Next boards up for a side chop. Should I do it? There's a little voice....
My pride and machismo is at stake. Of course I will do it!
Focus
Concentrate
Screammmm KiiiiiiYAAAAA! The boards fly across the room, broken.

I'm ecstatic. But my arm is throbbong. I look down. It is red, and swelling up in a weird and disgusting fashion. I sit. A fellow student, who is also a nurse says "you better take that to the emergency room - I think you broke it!"

I wiggle my fingers. I move my arm. Ow! But they move. I promise to go as soon as testing is over. I have other breaks with my feet and my left arm. They all go OK.

On to the ER. Yep. Ulna is snapped clean thru. Dang it. Old, brittle bones. No one breaks their arm chopping a few boards! Why me?

So I am in a brace, with a plate and 9 screws in my right arm. My left rib hurts where I fell on it during sparring. Huh? It didn't hurt during testing! Why now?

I know. It's because I'm 52. I shouldn't be jumping around like I'm 18. But I can't help it. Something tells me I've learned nothing. As I ease back into classes, heading to my 2nd degree black belt, I find I'm: kicking harder, jumping higher, and spinning faster. Heads up, bones, one of you may be next! Can't let some KID do better than me, after all. Right?