Pardon my French, but old age is a bitch.
These are NOT the "Golden Years." Where the hell is the gold?
I'm 74 freakin' years old, and this is, as one doctor put it, "The Age of Pain."
It is also a time of weak hands and swearing. The words I most hear out of my mouth are curse words. "Damn it to hell." "F**k." "Sh*t."
I drop things, I trip over things, I stub my toe, I screw things up.
I don't intend to do any of these things, they just happen.
And that is part of the problem. I feel young inside, sometimes 18, or 35, or 50. I sure as hell don't feel 74, whatever that feels like. I don't want to know.
Nobody wants to get old, including me. Especially me, young at heart as I am. Hell, I'm still flirting with women, even though they are not as young as they used to be.
Of course, that does NOT apply to me.
I still want to go mountain biking and body surfing and scuba diving. I don't, but it sounds like fun. I still want to race my road bike against my bicycle buddies.
Your hands get weak, but they don't FEEL weak. Jars are a lot harder to open. You can't fix things like you used to.
This morning, I tried to take the top off a spray can of olive oil. My hands were slightly oily, so I couldn't get it.
I got out a kitchen tool used to remove lids. I squeezed the hell out of the plastic top, crushing it, and twisted the hell out of the little bastard, and sure enough, it finally popped off.
So did the little squirt top inside, which skittered across the floor. "F**k!"
Why are these simple everyday things so hard to do?
No reason, they just are. I think it's nature's way of telling you something.
It's a message I don't want to hear.
-- Roger
Showing posts with label GERONTOLOGY. Show all posts
Showing posts with label GERONTOLOGY. Show all posts
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Saturday, January 12, 2013
GET IN SHAPE TO GET OLD
I decided to blog about aging because nobody warns you. Nobody tells you what it's going to be like when you get old.
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
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
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