Further thoughts after my pain post.
When we are very young children we are flexible, energetic, tough and resilient. We run, jump, pull up, dive under, crawl around, and skip merrily about in that most frantic of ways that is known only to youngsters and those who watch out for them. We have little fear, none that I can remember personally! The exercise, the movement, the physicality of it all is for the sheer joy of the activity itself.
We can move, therefore we do move. We must move. We enjoy the movement.
Fast forward to those junior high and high school years, when movement and activity and exercise get more regimented by the year. We join sports teams. We learn what it means to be part of a team, a team that wants not only to participate and play, but that wants to win. We train, we strengthen, we drill. Yes, it’s fun, of course, but it’s also regimented and with one goal in mind. Excelling. We train, we practice, we drill, all in the service of victory.
We are told to move. We will move better than anyone else. We will be celebrated for our movement.
A little further. College, graduate school, professional school. For some of us, the rigors of academics and study and preparation started to severely cut into our physical time, our recreation and competitive sports and training and working out. Yes, I still played quite a bit of tennis and ran and competed in races as I have written about already, but it was becoming that thing that I had to find and make time for, not the thing that came first and gave me the most joy. Having fun was becoming more of an obligation, something to be scheduled. The spontaneity was fading.
We wanted to move. We tried to find the time to move. We knew we should move. It still felt good to move.
Adulthood. We’ve made it. School is done. We have a job, a relationship, maybe a marriage, maybe children, a home, a mortgage, bills to pay. We go to church. We join social groups. We go to ballgames. We shuttle the kids around. We do dishes. We clean house. We work in the yard. We clean the pool. We plant a garden. We are tired and stiff and sore some nights, but we fall into bed and sleep and get up and do it all again the next day, because that is the drill.
We must move. Movement is required to keep the schedule going. We resign ourselves to the need for constant movement.
Now. I am sixty two years old. Firmly middle aged, I do not feel old at all. That being said, I do have days when joints hurt, feet hurt, I strain a muscle I never even knew I had, and I have a hard time bending over to tie my shoes. (Now, take this with a grain of salt, because I was diagnosed with Polymyalgia Rheumatica several years back, and although it is not active, I still think it affects me in little ways from time to time) As we age, we find that the little day to day things that we have always taken for granted are sometimes more of a challenge than they should be. Carrying a load in from the car. Reaching for the dryer sheets in that cabinet up above the washer. Going up and down long, steep flights of stairs. Sitting at a desk for long periods. All of these routine daily actions can sometimes take us by surprise and feel uncomfortable or even hurt! Have you ever reached for something or twisted around suddenly and pulled that tiny muscle under your shoulder blade, that then hurts like the devil for about three days before it settles down? Yep, that’s what I’m talking about.
We still need to move. Some movements are now challenging. If we do not move, our quality of life will begin to suffer.
So, what to do as we age?
Continue to move daily.
Get up, stretch, walk, garden, do the laundry, take the stairs and not the elevator, bend down to tie your shoes. Do not sit more than an hour at a time, if that. Get up, walk up and down the hallway, bend over and touch your toes a few times to loosen up. Use a standing desk. Get outside and walk around the block. Hike.
As long as we are moving, we are living.