I've come to a point in my life where I've started realizing that the road of life is one-way. There are no u-turns and no slowing down. It feels like I'm in the cab of Jack Monk's eighteen-wheeler, barreling down a winding mountain road somewhere in California, with the brake lines cut. The farther I go, the faster the scenery seems to pass by. Yes, the DVR picked up all the "Monk" episodes that I haven't already seen, and I've been enjoying catching up on the ones I couldn't watch when we didn't get USA.

For some reason, the thought of turning 30 frightens me. In just 389 days, I'll enter the fourth decade of my life. See - I couldn't even type that sentence without getting a knot inside and my heart pounding a little harder. I've never dreaded something quite so much, but I really can't tell you why. I'm excited about the journey of life; I'm secure in my faith and the dreams I have for my life. I love my wife and daughter and am looking forward to the arrival of my first son in a couple of months. There's just something about not being in my 20's that scares me!

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, we went to my wife's grandparents' house for a family reunion. Her cousins from Nashville had spent a few nights there, and they brought their 4-wheelers to pass the time. I'm not really used to riding 4-wheelers that were made for sport riding - I've mainly just enjoyed the utility versions that get the work done. That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy going 60-70 mph around the makeshift track behind the house - or running straight lines from the yard to the woods and back as quickly as I could. It was definitely a lot of fun - and I wanted to spend the night so I could do it again the next morning. But I couldn't talk Jessica into staying, so around 10:00 that night, we headed north.

Sometime in the middle of the night - not long after we went to bed - my back started hurting. I've been told countless times that I don't know what "hurting" means until I've carried a baby for nine months and had unmentionable things done to my body in order to get that baby out . . . but that night, I knew that an aching back was enough pain for me. I tossed and turned all night and took a couple of Jessica's prescription pain pills from when Ella was born along with six or eight Tylenol. And I was still in pain. The only thing I could do to keep my back from hurting was to lie on a heating pad on the floor. Every time the thermostat on the pad would kick it off, I'd wake up in pain and have to wait for it to heat up so it would stop hurting long enough for me to go back to sleep. The next morning, I crawled upstairs and into the recliner, where I sat with the heating pad for the rest of the day. By bedtime, I was finally feeling better.

I'm 28 years old. I shouldn't have to give up an entire day of my life to recover from riding a 4-wheeler. What is going on? Is this what getting older feels like? I've had a hard time admitting that age was a contributing factor to my back problem, and I really wanted to blame it on the mattress.

I don't really have anything inspirational to say about the subject . . . I still hate the thought of getting older, and I haven't figured out how to stop it from happening. I'm well on my way to having a Doctorate by the time I'm 38, and I'm headed up the "corporate" ladder of public education. I have the family, house, and cars. I have a relationship with Jesus and a purpose for living. I'm happy with life. But I'd like to just stop the hands of time for just a while. Or maybe I should just start thinking of my age as 21, plus (fill in the blank).