The misery of age

Recent events have convinced me that my body ain't what it used to be.

Like a slowly rusting car, I am neither as fit or robust as I once was. Isn't it funny how, as young people, we feel indestructible? I remember when I could fearlessly pelt down a dirt track on my bike without my bones crumbling then mercilessly beat the hell out of a foreigner without breaking a sweat. Alas, those days are gone.

Now it would appear that I cannot put the duvet cover on without having a stroke.

The incident that sparked this essay was a simple sore shoulder. A recent bout of exercise has left me unable to do much at all with my left arm. It's only a mild twinge but you underestimate how much one relies on their arms. I suppose you could compare them to shoes; essential for most activities but also taken for granted.

Another thing I have noticed is that my natural weight seems to be a good stone heavier than it was 5 years ago. Well, I say a 'good' stone but obviously in this context a stone isn't 'good' at all.

This developmental corner I have turned has spurred me on to keep fit. I don't want to be one of those 30-something twanners with a space hopper for a stomach. It is for this reason that I will be running 3 times a week as long as the weather holds out, possibly including a few 10k road races in the summer. Lissomely and purified I shall emerge.

When I am encased in plaster from head-to-foot in late July please come and visit.