Good Grief, They're Starting Them Young...

As if I did not have enough age related issues in my life (affects of gravity and middle age spread, random hair growth, memory loss) now I need to worry that at any moment I may be mowed down by one of the damn near fetal creatures that share space on the planet with me. 

Seriously, it started on the ski slopes.  All those motocross helmeted little amoeba-creatures sans ski poles that bulleted past me, causing at best momentary heart failure or at worst, immediate contact with the ground.  Then I see it in the pool -- 8 year olds swimming faster times than I did at 21! (Mind you, I maintain that's because I had huge boobs at 21.  For that matter, I had boobs at 8 -- maybe I should have skipped swimming as a sport altogether.)

 I can't even get away from the whippersnappers in the equestrian arena.  Not only are my kids barreling around, showing a decent amount of talent and jumping courses at what looks like breakneck speed with no regard for their Mother's health (I have a large supply of Xanax at the barn for days when I watch them lesson). Now I have to compete against pony-tailed, pre-pubescent future Grand National jockeys in the lower jumper levels.  I have to screw my courage to the bone, take a deep breath, and FORCE myself into the ring, a chorus of  prayerful imprecations (OHMYGODOHMYGOD) shrieking in my head as I negotiate the course, do my best to ride it according to the plan my trainer has devised,  and attempt to come out alive. 

As I leave the ring, hyperventilating and gratefully thanking all manner of deities that my life has been spared, I am inevitably passed by some be-ribboned and bowed 8 year old whiz kid on her freakishly fast pony.  Gasping for air, I watch as the adorable little future USET member speeds around the course at Mach 1 (and no Alzheimer's fueled GPS moments for her, no sirree Bob!) and breaks the final buzzer on average of 10 seconds faster than my round.

As I can't prevent these precocious talents from entering the classes I do ( note to self -- put on big girl pants and start jumping bigger fences where tubby little Thelwell ponies can't compete) and I can't very well duct-tape them inside their trailers, I will have to resort to what all older competitors do when faced with young upstarts: MINDGAMES!  I've come across some motorcross helmets with modifications that I plan to add to my riding helmet.  These modifications will make me look fierce, and hopefully give the baby barnstormers a moment's pause, something that may slow them up a bit.  Something to make them worry that the old bag might be competition, after all.

In case you're wondering what started me on this rant, here you go.  A client of mine sent me this link to her cousin's website.  Jaxson is two, and is riding motorcross.  Not only is the kid SERIOUSLY cute, he's got serious talent.  I mean, let's not kid ourselves, most two year olds can barely walk, much less motocross.  Check it out the website: http://www.jaxonxtremeracing.com/.  Here's a video of the little tyke out practicing -- see where I got the helmet idea?!