Interruptions to your life, whether plans, a train of thought, a story you are telling or your fitness journey are so annoying. There you are, chugging along, with a goal in mind, powered by enthusiasm, new-found zeal and good intentions and something stops you abruptly.
Even if my daily trysts with fitness were not-so-daily, my plans to be consistent were. I was trying to find what works for me, whether I had to exert discipline on a ‘lazy’ soul, or, was it something else. Was I, perhaps, being too hard on myself? I had to find a workout routine that fitted into my life. Here already a transformation had occurred. I recognised that whatever had worked for me earlier wasn’t effective now. With this realisation, I went to see my physiotherapist, a man I go to and trust when doctors are confusing and confused. And also because my hip was hurting.
That hip. I’ll forget its existence for months on end because there’s nothing to remind me that I have a hip. It works as it should, and it doesn’t demand extra attention. Then, slowly, it begins. It reminds me that I need to sleep with a pillow between my knees when I lie on my side. Because the hip is being thrown out of alignment. And that I haven’t done yoga for a few days (Yoga keeps everything of mine well-oiled and functioning at optimum capacity). So, the hip started up again. Maybe I had sat on the sofa too long, banged my feet down too hard on my daily walk, driven too far with my leg stretched out unnaturally. Who knows. I go to my physiotherapist and he heals me by inflicting pain on a muscle or a joint. Yes, he presses and I breathe through the pain and he may or may not tape me up, but I get better. I’m on the way to forgetting, again, that I have a hip.
This time we discuss my fitness journey and how disheartening it is to start and then have to stop because of an injury. He says that’s how it is for most people. It begins to feel less like a personal failure and more that it’s ‘just one of those things.’ I also confide my plans about getting blood tests done once I’m in better shape. The good thing about him is his lack of judgemental eyebrow-raising, which is probably what prompted me to divulge my idea of getting fit before getting pricked. He suggested I go ahead and get the blood work done quickly, rather than wait. Also a mammogram, a pap smear and a DEXA scan.
Face down on the massage bed, my cheeks resting on the edges of the massage bed rabbit hole, which is there so you can check if it’s dusty under the massage bed, or maybe so that your nose doesn’t get squashed I mumble into the opening, ‘What’s the point of a DEXA scan? Even if I have osteoporosis there’s nothing we can do.’
He assured me there was and that we would do them all. It was not a hopeless case, he said. This sets in motion a train of thought.
Why do the interruptions to exercise feel more discouraging now? I think there are many reasons and they’re all related to being older. Every twinge after a workout activates my fear of arthritis, osteoporosis and other significant ageing signs. Is it actual pain or are the muscles sore? Am I supposed to rest these sore muscles or push through the pain? At 64, it may not be wise to push through the pain as I used to. I am unsure what to do. And afraid of losing mobility through an injury. But if I don’t move I’ll definitely lose mobility. My hip is witness to that - my personal mobility barometer. There’s nothing for it but to pick myself up and continue on the journey, taking small steps.
I book a DEXA scan for the next day.