Well, don’t I feel silly. Several weeks ago, I wrote about my long morning walks and their many benefits. I encouraged you to do the same. I invested in good shoes and figured I’d be speed-walking into my nineties. Be like me, I implied.
I’d no sooner hit “publish” on that blog post than my legs began to hurt. So I stretched more often. Kept going. Then it occurred to me that since the pain was worse on one side, perhaps all I needed was one of my good chiropractor’s attitude adjustments. Dr. Narvey gladly obliged. Advised me to keep walking unless the pain grew worse while I walked or immediately after. So far, it hadn’t.
I’d no sooner received his adjustment and advice than I added another ten minutes to my route. (When exactly does “old enough to know better” kick in? Don’t be like me.)
That morning, the pain grew so bad I slowed to a stroll and then a crawl. I sat on my friend Barb’s doorstep to rest—too prideful to knock on the door and ask for a ride home. Called Hubby from my cell. While I waited for him, I limped on, slowly, toward home. By the time he caught up with me, only two blocks remained, but I gratefully climbed into his truck.
I didn’t go walking for a solid two weeks and for most of that time, could barely hobble around my house. How humiliating. They say you need to listen to what your body is telling you, but mine merely points and laughs.
I’m glad to say I’m gradually improving and have been out walking again—just not as far or as fast. Ultrasound and pressure treatments from Dr. Narvey help.
Then a Facebook memory from ten years ago popped up, reminding me I’ve been down this road before: “If I must give up clogging, I want it to be for some cool reason and not because I have a bum knee. And not because I’m too old. Both of which are becoming glaringly obvious. Phooey.”
I thought I’d be clog-dancing into my nineties.
Five years ago, I thought I’d be doing yoga into my nineties. Then a frozen shoulder made most of the poses in my routine impossible.
I’m sensing a pattern here. Old age is creeping up, yanking away the activities beneficial for heart, lungs, balance, flexibility, and strength—all keys to aging well. What will go next? Never mind, don’t answer that. And please don’t tell me to take up swimming because it ain’t happenin.’
My granny used to say, “Old age ain’t no place for sissies.”
I really don’t mind the idea of getting older. I just didn’t expect it this soon. But given the alternative, I guess I’ll take it. In II Corinthians 4, Paul tells us, “Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.” (NLB)
Forever is a whole lot longer than my nineties.
|One of the walks I frequent.|