I am still badass

I think to myself as I walk out of the orthopedic specialist’s office, holding my reminder card for an appointment with their orthopedic surgeon. “Bone on bone… tear in the… limp… osteoarthritis is common in athletes…exercise is great for the heart but terrible for the joints… full knee replacement is in your future”. Words I’ve heard before. Actually, words I’ve spoken before, when describing my mother who has had two full knee replacements. Did I not see this coming? Do we all just eventually become our parents? Pulling down the vanity mirror, I adjust my sunglasses, fix my hair and whisper “I am still badass.”

Who are we really when our persona is forced to shift? So here I am, listening—or not really—to this 23-year-old, who’s apparently a reflection of my younger self, regaling me with tales of his ravaged knees after years behind the plate. As he measures my leg, I can’t help but question how I’m expected to function in a gym setting teaching elementary kids with a brace strapped on for five hours a day. I was already feeling awkward about re-entering this world at my mid-40s, and now there’s this added burden of a brace to push off my knee replacement until next summer. Is this really the best life has to offer? At 23, I’m sure Connor envisioned a future filled with possibilities, yet here he is, looking up at me and saying, “You’re too young for a knee replacement. We’ll make this brace fit just right.” How charming. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll also turn sweet when I can no longer embody my badass self.

They say that the mid-40s are the ultimate test of a woman’s sanity. Here we are, trying to juggle adult children, aging parents, a body that seems to have its own agenda, a career, and if we strike it lucky, maybe a social life too—it’s like a circus act without a net! Every woman should wake up and channel her inner badass, but let’s be real: most are just staring into the mirror wondering if they accidentally signed up for a reality show called “Life: The Impossible Edition.” Who knew that working tirelessly to advance our education and careers would not come with a manual on how to dodge perimenopausal pounds like they’re ninjas creeping up on us? And don’t even get me started on the saga of hair dye—spending a fortune to color those sneaky white strands that reappear faster than a bad penny. At this point, letting my hair go natural feels less like age and more like I’m just entering the ‘distinguished’ phase. For ages, I took pride in no one guessing my age—now slap on a brace and a limp, and suddenly I’m the grand marshal of the ‘Welcome to Aging’ parade! So, I question, what is the most challenging path: hiding our age or boldly owning it?

AI tells me, “I’m still in a great place because I can bend, walk, do yoga, go up stairs, etc.” Thanks, AI, but really? I used to wonder about those folks who used Google for their questions and then started having chats with AI bots. But if it’s so optimistic about my situation, who am I to rain on its parade? So, should I really swap biking for walking? Wunderbike just doesn’t have that same allure. Or swimming? Seriously, who even swims? Definitely not me. Have you seen what chlorine does to white hair? Yet, according to AI (and Connor), water therapy is supposedly the best remedy for healing knees. Wunderwalks… right off the deep end into the crystal blue water. Swimming and biking (where is Freddie Mercury when I need him?) I have questions. Where did the last 10 years go? How did I end up here?

Did you know that “I am” statements can be incredibly powerful messages we share with ourselves? One of my most cherished assignments for connecting with my students was to encourage them to compose an “I am” poem. While there were initial hesitations, those soon transformed into moments of quiet reflection and self-discovery. It’s a beautiful journey to ask ourselves: who are we when we take a genuine look within?

Apparently, this version of me is taking charge of my joints, pedaling vigorously with my KT-taped knee. I fully recognize that invincibility is behind me, but that only fuels my determination. Age is merely a number, and while my timeline isn’t endless, I’m embracing every moment. With great stress—whether physical or mental—comes the opportunity for incredible balance. (It’s definitely time to schedule that yoga class). A diagnosis doesn’t define or limit me; instead, it opens the door to exploring new forms of movement. Wunderwalks 2.0 (modified version).

I am wildly capable of concurring any obstacle.

I am constantly evolving.

I am able to overcome this challenge.

And yes, I am still a badass.