One of the things that getting old(er) has taught me is that exercise is life, and that the exercise of living is deeply enriched and motivated by keeping our minds and bodies nurtured at every age.
Little of that was of interest to me in my youth. After all, I was young and nimble and would take on what life threw at me with joyous exuberance. For me, that included high school basketball and golf, and using a bicycle to get around town and to school (a 7 mile ride each way). Any aches and pains that resulted would surely dissipate in due time.
And hiking. The hills and mountains around the Los Angeles basin are geologically young, and therefore offer up every level of difficulty imaginable. 11,000 foot peaks are a thrill, but there are a multitude of ridges and canyons that have rugged ups and downs.
Back then, I didn't have the awareness that what I loved doing was creating a durable structure for the future. I also didn't know that those silly or awkward injuries during my youth may have deserved special attention, in order to keep them from becoming issues later in life. There was no maintenance, only rinse and repeat. That perspective came straight from the adults around me while growing up. Things like shake it off, Get back in there, and don't be a wimp were the norm.
Marriage, family and career came along, consuming more and more of any available time I had. Hiking, golf and such fell by the wayside. I still rode a bike until time demands required a vehicle, but kept playing basketball when possible.
Then came my forties, and those subtle hints. The surprising back twinge that seemingly came from nowhere. Rising to an upright position from a full squat and feeling a moment of dizziness. Not being able to quite flex that certain way that my partner and I enjoyed together, or worse, getting a cramp in the process. Laughing those off was easy, because they were certainly one-offs.
Until they weren't.
That was a message that I took to heart in my mid-fifties, when I chose to leave my career to pursue other life interests, including the hiking and cycling of the past. I didn't have any delusions that I was going to be all-powerful and capable again. I knew that my road bike days were over, but city and trail riding was still within my grasp.
That's where my analytic brain took over. I created a 12 month plan to find my best physical self, for I knew it would take more than exercise for this paunchy, mid-life body to step up. And tha is where exercise as a dedicated activity took hold.
I started doing hatha yoga for core strength and flexibility, and strength-cardio for muscle tone and durability. I also fully evaluated my diet. Boy, was THAT eye-opening! One goal of both was to lose about 40 pounds at a steady, two pound per week rate that was balanced between activities and calorie management.
By the end of my first year, I was feeling surprisingly fit. The peaks and valleys I'd roamed decades earlier were still within grasp, and at the same average pace of 2 1/2 miles per hour up and 3 1/2 MPH coming down. I started leading group hikes and doing hiking trail repair, but things that I'd done before.
The key difference wasn't in what I could do, but that foibles of my youth chose to fight back at times. The shoulder injury. The damaged ankle ligaments from no one ever noticing that my feet were pronated, which caused me to roll ankle with regularity. I just thought I was a klutz. Not so much, it turned out.
Physical therapy and targeted stretches resolved those, as they still do today. Even emerging sciatica pain was resolved by it. Life was good.
Then the pandemic hit, and it all derailed. Exercise classes went away, and I need that group motivation to keep at it. Other stresses took hold, and soon I'd gained back all the weight I'd lost and more. In short, I'd gone from the best shape in my life at 61 to the absolute worst at 65. Those aches and pains from the past crept back in, and now I was a mess without a compass, standing at what felt like a crossroads.
Reclaim what I could, or accept the lesser me I'd become.
Which leads me to the present, and the answer to the question: Do you think there is a specific age for exercising, or can we work out at any stage of our lives? Do you currently exercise?
Yes, I think relative levels of physical activity at all ages is necessary and beneficial. Some can take this path on their own, or stay committed to a goal. Some need a deeper commitment, or a event in their lives that brings personal health to the forefront.
I need a mindset. Something I'd embraced five eyars ago that has left me. Call it an ability to balance life's demand while prioritizing my ability to sustain, because at 66, sustainment is easier to lose than ever. Recovery takes longer. Walks take longer. I have to walk my bike up some hills that I used to ride. But the recent past has reminded me that recovery and rebound will only get tougher, and the win is in doing. So, I adapt. Lighter weights. Lesser movements. But still moving as much as my body can. It's in the big things like trail work, and the little things, like only watching television when I'm using the dumb bells I keep by my chair. And that feels as good as ever.
NOTE: This post is in response the the Ladies of Hive weekly contest question. You can find it and more from their great community at:
@ladiesofhive/ladies-of-hive-community-contest-306