So if 42 was the year of adjustments and 43 was the year of contemplation and meditation 44 was the year of...well feeling old.
As most of you know I've never really been hung up much on age. I will joke about getting older, that pop noise that you hear when you stand up in your 40s, "are you okay?", "I'm fine, just old." But age has never really been a thing. My parents were in the their late 30s when I was born. My first real memories of them they were already 40. They were in their 50s when I was in high school. Older for me has always skewed much older than it has for my friends. Turning 30 and turning 40 weren't big deals. I didn't have that crisis of faith where I thought my best years were behind me and I was becoming old. Aging just wasn't an issue. Everyone gets older, if they are lucky, and you have choices, you can do it with grace or you can fight against it, but it's going to happen.
So imagine my surprise when this year my age came up and smacked me in the face. It started with the fitness challenge I started last year right about this time. I had big plans, super workouts to get ultra fit and see how much I could push my body to tone and tighten and be awesome. Well what I found out was that at 44 I couldn't push like that anymore. I needed more downtime and recovery. And I found out that when I tried to stubborn my way through the pain it didn't fade, as it would have in my 20s or even my 30s but it got worse. What the actual fuck? I was pissed. How dare my body not do what I wanted it to do. But I adjusted. Not happily, but I put the brave face on it. It was a challenge to see how far I could push, and I got my answer. Not as far as I thought. And when I backed off I healed up. So that was fine.
Then I hit the wall. Okay, not a wall. It was C. Walking back from the park when we went to Disney for Christmas I was looking to the side instead of in front of me and C stopped to avoid running in to a drunk girl who was weaving her way down the sidewalk. BAM! I ran straight in to him. Jammed my foot on the back of his. Saw stars for a minute and the whole bit. Went back to the hotel, put it up, iced it down and...well it was fine the next day. A little sore, but not bad really. But it kept coming back. And then it got worse.
After a few visits to my primary doc I got the referral to the specialist. Chronic injury. Chronic is never a good thing. It means it's sticking around. Basically what I did was peeled the cartilage at my toe joint. So where the big toe meets the rest of the foot the cartilage in there is sliced. When it is laying down flat it feels fine, if it gets bunched or lifted it hurts like a son of a gun. The only thing to fix it is surgery which comes with its own issues so we are delaying that as long as possible. The way to help delay that is with a change in lifestyle, low heeled shoes, different workouts, more structured every day shoes. And so I made all the adjustments. Then when I went in for the follow up appointment the doctor got mean. He described how the injury happens. It comes from years of wear on the joint, through the high heels, through the hundreds of times you stub your toe, all of that adds up to weaken the structure so a good solid hit like the one I took can cause damage.
Basically, you are old and worn out so this is what happened.
See? Mean.
Then we went to Chicago and I ached after walking around the city. Yes, part of that was I had the wrong shoes with me for humidity and walking. Yes, part of that was my gait was off because my feet hurt. Yes, part of that was because I am in the worst shape I've been in for years because I am still trying to figure out what to do workout wise that isn't boring as all get out. But the bottom line was I ached. It wasn't the "oh boy I'm sore, that was a good workout" it was, "holy crap my hips hurt and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to stand back up now that I've sat down."
See, I've kept my weight in check without working out but I am not in any sort of cardiovascular shape. And I'm softer than I've been in ages. When I first got the "things have to change" diagnosis I started working on changing and altering things. Just straight up toning, push-ups, sit-ups, leg lifts, and trying to workout out using heel leads instead of pointing or flexing my toes. But it was starting to make me bored and bummed. I never do well doing what I'm told I have to.
Yes, you read that right, I responded to feeling old by acting childish.
And then the capper was a few weeks ago lying in bed I had the thought that I was going to die someday. Now that's not a new thought at all. Everyone knows they are going to die. But the realization that at some point the me that I am is just going to stop. For what ever reason (the I've been feeling old reason I am sure) it actually hit me this time. The me that I am is going to stop at some point. Made me understand why people like the idea of an actual heaven where they live for ever. The just stopping thing is a little disconcerting.
So 44 was the year of feeling old. Which is okay. I am middle aged. Even with the most optimistic view of my life span I am solidly in the middle of it and working on the second half. I will never be as young as I used to be. I will never again be able to get away with the abuse I put my body through in my teens and twenties. And for the first time I actually felt old. Now that I've felt it though, I think I'm done with it. I'm not going to get any younger, my body is still going to be able to do just what it can and no amount of bullheadedness or childish pouting is going to change that, but I am solidly middle aged. There is a lot left to get through and the realization that maybe I should be treating it like I'm halfway through because I'm not getting any younger is a good one.
So what will 45 bring? We've had adjustment, meditation, realization and now what? I guess you'll just have to wait until next year to see.
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