Young people of the Internet: I am the voice of the future. Heed my warning. Do everything in your power to stop aging.
Aging is not good for you. It’s really not. Your metabolism will desert you (10 years ago, I was a size 4. Today…well. I’m not a size 4.) You’ll have to go to the restroom before you get in the car. That’s every time you get in the car. Don’t test that one even once. You’ll fall asleep on the couch before 10 p.m. every night. Well before 10 p.m. Eating blue cheese will give you heartburn.
The latest symptom in my downward spiral into decrepitude (that’s a word, right?) occurred Monday morning. I got up at 5:40 (one of the perks of going to bed before the sun has disappeared is that you wake up before the sun rises) to go for a run. I coated my entire body in a layer of Body Glide, got dressed and went downstairs for a little stretching/petting Petunia while she eats session (oh, another thing: with age, you have to stretch before AND after exercise to avoid injury. It’s exhausting and time consuming.)
I left the house, synched up my watch and put my iPod onto “blaring” (did I mention that you’re hearing slowly disappears as you get older? Just a tiny bit at first. You’ll notice yourself saying “huh?” and “what?” a lot. That’s how you’ll know.)
I went literally 10 steps and about died. I had a sharp stabbing pain in my back on the left side, kinda close to my spine. It basically felt like my liver was trying to escape my body. I hit pause on the iPod and did a few upper body stretches. When it felt like I could breathe without doubling over, I tried to run a few more steps. Nope. Excrutiating, radiating pain. I turned back the 20 paces and went back inside the house.
During this whole escapade, one of my neighbors had pulled up, gotten out of his car, witnessed my entire “run,” and walked to his front door, shaking his head as if to say, “Yep, another one down.”
I hobbled through my morning routine. I was just in so much pain. I even considered going to the doctor, something I never do since my physician has the bedside manner of Frankenstein. My own personal WebMD XFE told me that it was probably just a spasm and I’d be fine.
Let me reiterate: I did nothing NOTHING at all that would have caused any kind of muscle spasm or contraction of any sort. Unless you count bending over and petting a cat or pushing a button on an iPod as strenuous activity, I had not done any moves that would cause that kind of blinding, breath-stealing pain. This is purely a case of Random Age Pain. It’s similar to Restless Leg Syndrome, I suspect. Or even, heartburn.
Now I’m on a steady diet of ibuprofen and glum, pitiful looks, accentuated by sharp intakes of breath whenever I move wrong. I had a heating pad on it all morning, but a quick Google search indicated that I had gotten even that course of treatment wrong. You’re supposed to use ice packs, apparently, not heat. Which really bums me out because I hate to be cold.
We have less than four days until vacation and I was really hoping to get my old and slowly-rotting, ancient body in shape for bikini wearing. Because by my calculation, four days totally would have been all it would take to turn back the hands of time and get into a size 4.
