Is It Just a Number?
Whoever said that age is just a number was surely being misleading. I know because today I truly felt my three score years and more.
The cause could just be the miserable dank and grey weather that continues to permeate every fibre, including last week when we spent our regular week in the Lake District. Endless rain and low cloud limited walking to the valley and only as far as various hostelries in several directions. There again it may be that after another week trying to match Grandotty's energy, I am simply more aware of my limitations.
Those limitations were even more pronounced than usual when I realised that despite the best part of a month's arm rest, I still could not properly lift Little Sister although, by way of some complex reasoning, I deemed attempts at doing so as a form of physical therapy along with resistance movements in the swimming pool and warming myself in the infra-red sauna.
The last few days, however, have been relatively pain free and I awoke this morning convinced that my cellular structure has rejuvenated ahead of time and that and despite the bruising that is still apparent, I am well on the way to the resumption of muscular health. Accordingly this morning, at the hospital appointment my G.P. had referred me to, I began by apologising for taking up valuable professional time, my body having healed itself without the need for medical advice or intervention.
"Not so fast," the expert responded before deflating me with statistics that suggested that after the age of forty healing is noticeably slower and injury more likely, leaving me wondering what scope there could ever be for a full recovery in one's retirement years. At least he didn't criticise my attempts at weight-lifting and to be fair did comment that weight bearing exercises aimed at building up core and spinal strength are possibly the best things you can do to combat the skeletal afflictions that come with ageing.
I can't say I cared for the insight that over sixty it is not unusual for atrophy to set in after as little as two weeks; a comment that followed a physical examination of my biceps. Fortunately the recommended treatment was simply to resume activities at the gym (I've already been back to Pilates and Yoga classes) but perhaps a tad less enthusiastically and to build up slowly and carefully. As a precaution, and hopefully not because of a prescient forecast, I am to remain on their clinical list for 6 months with a warning of all the awful ruptures and serious tears that could take place and never properly heal if I don't give my body time to rest between workouts or press on when it screams for me to stop.
Easier to injure; longer to heal; that seems to be the legacy of age.
.jpg)
Comments