From every indication, Michael Phelps is not of this world.
Phelps, the most decorated Olympian in history, has for the last decade or so grabbed more precious metal in the water than Blackbeard. His six medals in Rio gave him a career total of 28, which means if he wore them all at one time, both he and Las Vegas would be visible from outer space.
He's accomplished this thanks in no small part to his incredible drive, discipline, talent and focus (Death Stare, anyone?) and to his amazing physical gifts.
The Baltimore native is 6-4 and could be the model for a new generation of torpedoes ("Here is our new weapons system, the Phelpsinator ..."). He has feet that make water skis redundant. His ankles can swivel like an old-school G.I. Joe (without the propensity to come off in a plastic combat boot and have to be fished out with a pair of needle-nose pliers. At least, I think not.).
When he stretches, he can wrap his arms around himself like a tether-ball rope. Basically, anything that moves any better than he does in the water has gills.
Making matters more challenging for competitors is that, for roughly the last 20 years, Phelps has been the rock against which their careers have been shattered. Say "raise your hand if you've ever finished second to Michel Phelps" and there will be enough elevated digits to do a stadium-sized version of The Wave.
So it was no surprise that one of his team members suggested the 31-year-old Phelps will be back in four years at the Tokyo Games. Phelps, on the other hand, wasn't having any of it.
"My body is in pain," Phelps said. "My legs are hurting. I am tired." To which I said, "I feel for you, Mike."
Yep, Michael, let me introduce you to the only competitor you can't out-swim: Time.
At some point all of us, from Olympic champions to Week/Weak End Warriors like me have to come face-to-face with the cold, hard reality of molecular degeneration. Phelps felt it after winning another gold medal. I felt it reaching for a glass in the cabinet and almost tearing my rotator cuff. Hey, it was a pretty high shelf ...
OK, so comparing my typical athletic pursuits and Phelps' is pretty much like comparing a Pop Tart and a James Beard Foundation award-winning pastry. I mean, there was flour involved. And an oven. Other than that ... meh.
Michael Phelps got tired competing. I got tired watching him. So, his acceptance of the realities of aging comes from a far more dramatic place than mine.
Still, it remains two parts bitter and one part sweet to realize one of the greatest athletes this or any country has ever produced is subject to the same constraints as the rest of us. Nice to know you're human, Mike. We humans prefer an Advil-Aleve cocktail. And it's ice, then hot. Or something like that.
Much of this is necessitated by the fact that, unlike someone who knows when enough is enough, a lot of the "50 Is the New Whatever Age We're Comparing 50 To Now That Is a Lot Less Than 50" club haven't gotten the memo that we don't bounce back as well as we used to.
Within my immediate circle of acquaintances, our refusal to accept that we aren't as young as we used to be (isn't that sort of, like, how aging works?) used to manifest itself in running-related knee and tendon injuries.
Now we've taken to falling off and/or over our bikes. Variety is the butterfly suture that holds life, and that large, angry-looking gash over your right eye, together.
Still, if this year's Olympics are any indication, continuing to compete well past what was once considering your prime places you in a growing, achy, heavily-iced demographic.
In a sport where most of the competitors can't even drive themselves to the meet, 41-year-old gymnast Oksana Chusovitina of Uzbekistan participated in her seventh Olympics. Kristin Armstrong of the United States won her third consecutive gold medal in the women's cycling time trial at the age of 43. American Kim Rhode picked up her sixth consecutive Olympic medal in skeet shooting at age 37.
So if Phelps decides his next dip will involve more than the words "Marco" and "Polo," he'll at least be in good company. And I'll be there to watch him. He just doesn't need to expect me to jump up when he wins.
It takes forever to get the heating pad just right, and I don't want to take a chance on messing that up.
Commentary on 08/19/2016