It’s no joke that after 40, things literally start to fall apart.This is why archeologists get all whippy excited when they find the remains of a humanoid that they can fix at having died at an age past 40 because millions of years ago, that’s really, really old.For a Neanderthal, a Cro-Magnon, even a plain vanilla old Homo Erectus, over 40 was pretty much ancient, a genuine anomaly.Ergo it follows, students of physiology, that even though medical science has saved a whole lot of us, it has yet to find a way to speed up evolution and fix the inherent flaws in the human us.Knees? They howl as I grudge up the steep escalators of Charles De Gaulle airport.Feet throb even when I am not literally pounding the pavement and they protest violently when I take a fancy to any new, high-heeled shoes. Joints ache, ligaments truly hurt…
God, but I’m falling apart.
Nowhere do I feel this more than when on a grueling business trip.Putting aside the usual jet-lag related fatigue, the actual physical pain of traveling is tangible.My tail bone aches ─ in no small part due to an unstable hip joint that has been bothering me for years now.I am not of a mind to try and fix this hip ligament thingy, having had more than one doctor offer to, “get in there and take a look around and see what can be done’.No thanks.Sounds dodgy to me. After cancer and the disciplined medical protocols and methodology followed by my team of oncologists, my take is that doctors should actually have a plan of action before ‘getting in there’.So, it flares up upon occasion and I just deal with it.
The joy of decades of teaching fitness and yoga are revealed, folks.It’s called a repetitive motion injury.Or, in the vernacular, the old bod is simply getting older.
I really felt my age as I ran around the Louvre. Ran is actually a misnomer, I wandered, albeit quickly, all over the museum that houses some of the greatest artistic treasures in the world.I moved quickly, wanting to drink every conceivable treasure in like inhaling the perfect wine, too quickly and too much.But I didn’t care, I waved to the Mona Lisa, nodded to a couple of giant paintings from the Renaissance and worked my way through the Greek sculpture wing before heading to the Egyptian salons and this after spending some quality time with the Etruscans. Every meter, my body was screaming fatigue but I didn’t give up, the chance to spend a Sunday afternoon, at the feet of genius, was too much to waste.One afternoon, one lifetime would not be enough.
As I left the Louvre, my thighs aching, feet protesting so loudly that I was sure the locals could hear them through my Uggs, I glanced up at the dome made famous in The Da Vinci Code.How easy, I thought, would it be to just take the lift up.The sky, pallid and frozen overhead, loomed.It would be a miserable cold walk back to the metro, provided I could remember all the stops, landmarks and directions to get back.
What the heck, I walked up the stairs, probably upwards of fifty of them, into the freezing Paris day.