I'm 74 now, but I'm one of the lucky ones. I won the genetic lottery. People take me for 55, on a good day. I'm what they call "young-old."
When you are actually young, you don't look at an old person -- all wrinkly and hobbling around and groaning when they bend over to pick up something, having trouble getting up and down the stairs -- and say to yourself, that's gonna be me someday.
We view old people as aliens, as if they came from another planet. But guess what, young people, you are gonna get old some day. If you're lucky. It beats the hell out of the alternative.
Today, I want to talk about strength. I've been working out for 30 years. Yes, that's right, 30. And I'm not one of those people who intends to go to the gym someday. I actually do it.
I've been active, a runner, body surfer, mountain biker, weight lifter, minor body builder, student of boxing and martial arts.
I used to mountain bike a 1,000-foot elevation gain two or three times a week. Plus ride my road bike 20-30 miles once a week. Plus lift weights and play tennis. My resting heart rate got down to 48, a good measure of cardiovascular fitness. When Mohammad Ali was heavyweight boxing world champion, his resting heart rate was 52. So I was in damn good shape. I was in my 50s.
So I've been active, all right. And if I get weaker as I age, imagine what it's going to be like if you don't exercise.
The most surprising thing is that your muscles feel just as strong as they ever did, but things that were easy are now difficult. Things that were difficult are sometimes impossible. I especially notice it in my hands. I have three types of jar opening tools in my kitchen.
When I'm with my grandsons, if I can't open a jar, I hand it to Jake or Eric and pop, it comes right off in their little hands. They are 10 and 11 years old.
I may have been strong once, but not any more. I would bet that's gonna happen to you, too. There is no point in whining around about it. Get used to it.
One of my physical trainers, John O'Brien, told me one time, "Something's gonna get you some day, and you want to be in the best shape you can when it happens."
Amen to that. So I keep working out, but lighter and lighter, with less and less intensity, as I get older. I get weaker, but I fight against it. Trying to stave off the inevitable.
That's the only thing you can do. You can't afford to quit.
NEXT: The Age of Pain.
-- Roger
Copyright © 2013, Roger R. Angle
5 comments:
Great idea for a blog, Roger! Keep writing, O.G. :)
Thanks, Sharine.
This is from my friend Tom, via e-mail:
Yes, I say. On the radio I heard a woman who writes the exercise column for NY Times talking about her new book based on current studies of exercise. She was especially positive about walking and doing squats, 20 every-other day. It suits my style. I walk the dog 1-1/2 to 2 miles every day, and I'm doing the squats (this to keep away from the rest home as long as possible). I've always been not athletic, but I've always liked walking. What I find generally is I can do the things that I've always done, walking, playing clarinet, as comfortably as always. In fact I'm playing the best I've ever played, mostly because I've found powerful practice regimens. I do notice, however, that at the end of a 3-hour gig my fingers (which are arthritic) often begin to bind up. On the other hand, doing something new (including when I started squats) is very difficult.
So far we've neglected the mental issues. I have a terrible time with memory, sometimes having difficulty naming obvious things in front of my eyes like spinach or a crescent wrench. That seems to be pretty universal, though, who knows, maybe I'm in the first phase of senility. More curious to me is a growing tendency to see things I wish to see for brief tantalizing moments, instead of what's there. I was a my ex-wife's place recently and we were both looking for her misplaced glasses so that she could drive me to the airport. I came to her crafts table, littered with small crafty things, some of them glittery, and saw the glasses in the corner. I reached for them and took a deep breath to call out that I'd found them before I realized it was a little pile of tinsel.
Asi es la vida! Tom
This is from one of my two friends named Vicki (I asked people to tell me what they thought):
Hi Roger:
I like it!
It's so true that "Nobody tells you what it's going to be like when you get old."
Actually, old people *would* tell you--if you would listen. But how many young people listen to old people?
I'm 62--will turn 63 in July.
One interesting thing about my aging is--I'm more pain-free than I've been since I was 13. I used to have hormonal migraines--for decades. They finally stopped.
So I rarely have a pain of any kind. Hardly even a twinge.
I have to baby my knees--but I do baby them, so they don't complain.
I'm looking forward to this being my best decade yet.
Vicki
Glad to see that some wisdom comes with age - good piece
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