I was rudely awakened from my much-needed nap by an all too familiar, and unforgiving, smell.

Roasted peanuts.

Had it been only one or two people snacking on them, I would have been fine. But it seemed everyone on the plane was gorging themselves, so my nostrils were mercilessly assaulted. Unable to go back to sleep, I decided to grab the copy of GQ from my bag in the overhead compartment.

This would lead to the second assault on my body.

My friends, I have been playing basketball for the better part of 20 years. I've played organized, unorganized, outside in the snow and inside in above 100-degree heat. But it wasn't until this moment -- when I tried to stand up to grab that magazine -- that my knees decided to voice their disapproval.

I thought we were cool, my knees and I. Although I knew the decades of running, jumping, cutting and diving was taking a toll, it wasn't as if I was disrespecting them. I'd iced sometimes. Took some ibuprofen. But apparently they were offended by the weekend tournament I was coming home from and decided enough was enough.

So, for what felt like an hour, I tried to stand up and my pissed-off knees tried to stop me.

The pain was so great, I started hallucinating. I saw Patrick Ewing and Jerome Bettis laughing at me in first class. Michael Stipe, dressed as a flight attendant, walked by singing "Everybody Hurts." I soon decided nothing in GQ was worth standing up for, so I sat back down and flipped through the Sky Mall catalog looking for a new pair of knees for an hour instead.

Sad, but true.

When I started writing columns about 10 years ago, I told myself I would never write an "I'm getting old and it sucks" column. But that was before I actually started to get old.

This does suck.

Especially the part where the old guys come up to you and start talking about how good a younger player is. The first time it happened, I just shrugged it off. But after the fifth such conversation in a two-hour span during the tournament, I realized I had joined a fraternity without even pledging. I used to be the guy everyone talked about, not the guy involved in the talking.

The really disturbing thing was that until this weekend, I honestly thought I was still jumping high and running fast. Seriously, I did. If someone got by me, I would think that the player made a great, pro-level move, not that I was too old and slow to keep up.

What can I say? Delusion is a powerful drug.

It's the reason Michael Jordan thought he belonged in the NBA at 40. It's the reason Sam Cassell said he wasn't washed up, even though he missed 24 games this season with injuries. It's the reason Shaq says he still has gas left in the tank. I love you, Diesel, but if you have to say it, chances are you don't look as good as you think.

You can have all the experts working on your body as much as possible but eventually you are what you are. Whether you're a gym rat like me or a pro, worn-out knees are worn-out knees. No one looks at Janet Jackson and thinks, "Wow, she looks so young." They look at her and see an aging pop star going under the knife to look young.

So if you're over 35 with a DNP-CD by your name, you can keep telling yourself you can still contribute, but be warned: Your coach just doesn't have the heart to say, "Dude, it's over, but you're a good guy so I'll keep you around under the guise of 'veteran leadership.'"

Harsh, I know. But my knees ache and I'm feeling bitter. If I gotta go down, I'm taking the rest of you guys with me.

LZ Granderson is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine and host of the ESPN360 talk show "Game Night." You can reach him here.