It's Not Funny

Man! I don't know when it happened, but somewhere in the course of the last 10 years I became middle-aged. No, I'm not old. I am suffering those small aches and pains in a bigger way these days though. Dammit. The ironclad health I used to boast about has begun deceiving me when I'm not paying attention. Still, for the most part, I take my good health for granted even though I know I shouldn't. I mean, I eat well and I'm active so my body seems fit. I still do all the things I used to do with a fair amount of ease. It's the 'after' part that is making me groan.

Let's take my current middle-aged episode as our example. Last week I did chores outside in the bright sunshine in order to enjoy said sunshine. After the day that I raked, I noticed that my lower back was really strained. I felt like a dumbass. Did raking do this to me? I kept wondering just how old I was. And trust me, every step reminded me that I had, indeed, done something to my back. Argggh! I racked my brain trying to figure out something else that must have caused this other than raking. Sheesh! Raking couldn't do this, could it??

That question was answered today when I slapped on four more storm windows. It wasn't until I was at work tonight that I felt that familiar pull in my lower back again. Aha! I mused on why putting storm windows would burden my back so much. When I went through the motion in my head, it became abundantly clear how I'd ended up with the unhappy muscles. The storm window gets leaned against the house and I climb the ladder. Then I pull the storm window up and balance it on the ladder for a second before placing it carefully in the hollow of the window frame. Yep, that'll do it. Still, I could've done that motion one hundred times before it would have bothered me a decade ago. But no more. I have to be kinder to my 40-something body from here on out. I'll admit I didn't think I was overdoing it last week, or today for that matter.

There's other things too. I made a rich butter cream sauce for some ravioli last week which was very tasty! Unfortunately, at 2 am, my stomach was letting me know it was a bit too much for it to be okay with. I didn't get up or anything, but the digestion cramps were less than desirable just then. My eyelids also seem to have gathered a lot of extra skin in the last few years. Are my eye sockets shrinking? I mean, where are these layers of lid skin coming from, after all? And the gray hairs!! I can take just about anything middle age throws at me, but I am really tired of the wiry white hairs that boing out of the natural flow of my hair. Blondes have it a little easier than brunettes, so I'm not ungrateful for my light-colored tresses. I just don't understand why the gray hairs have to be so coarse and unruly.

The physical features that are going to hell are okay with me, actually. A bonus to getting old is that you care a whole lot less how people view you. If we are lucky, someone loves us anyway, and remembers us before all those old age indicators started to show. I think the one ache and pain that is my most constant reminder is my walking stance after a morning of a hectic night of waiting tables. I'm always surprised when I get out of bed with the full expectation of walking out to the kitchen to brew up some coffee and my body fails me just a little. My feet hurt, my knees ache, and coming to a complete standing position is not as easy as one would think it would be. Picture a bent over old person crossing the street, looking like each step is more difficult than the last. Except for me, I walk faster when I get out of bed and realize my muscles have somehow atrophied overnight. I don't know why. Maybe I think there are a certain number of steps I have to walk before that feeling leaves me, so if I go faster I'll be able to forget that's how I felt when I took those first 20 steps out of my bedroom.

No matter what my body decides to throw at me, I'm not leaving my youth without a fight. I'm gonna rake, throw on storm windows, paint house eaves, and mow the yard with a push mower until I'm 80 years old if I can! And one thing is for sure, I'm giving more and more respect to my elders who still do so many things without complaint. I know without a doubt that a lot of those old fogeys are hurting after a day with the grandkids or an afternoon helping their kids install a new floor. Give 'em your respect, people. They've earned it!