Whining

I try not to do this too often, but getting old really sucks. Yesterday, I was working out. I started working with a trainer as part of recovering from shingles, and I'm still doing it because it feels good. I'd finally noticed this week that I felt strong. So I'm working out, just doing some lunge/stretch things with no weight, and suddenly something pops in my left leg.

Ouch!, I yelled. And then Ouch! again for good measure. It wasn't the most painful thing I'd ever felt, but it hurt and of course I had to stop exercising. Then came the dreaded wait. This is the big difference between getting hurt when you're young and getting hurt when you're old. When you're young, you go to sleep assuming you'll be fine in the morning (to the point of not even thinking about it) and you usually are. At my age, you go to bed cringing at the thought of what might await you in the morning. Better or worse? Better or worse? Which will it be?

Fortunately, this time I woke and felt it, not miraculously better, of course, but somewhat better. Given the range of possibilities, I would have been happy with no change, so this is very positive news. I'm going to Florida next week and want to be able to walk around.

The big problem now is taking care of it. Partially limiting injuries are a real challenge for me, because I have a hard time sitting still for a long time and I want to do stuff. I especially like walking around. This is a very bad idea at this point, and I have to consciously plan my day so that I don't tempt myself to, for instance, take public transit to a doctor appointment, which would obligate me to walk a mile or more. I don't like having to be that strategic about things, but not much choice at this point.