I got myself to the gym this morning only to re-injure my neck. I had a pulled muscle that was all better, all gone and now it's back. Shit. I watched a film about Iris Apfel, the oldster with the giant round glasses and the outsized fashion sense. She said, "Well, you just live with pain, physical pain when you get to be 90".
Hard to accept. And I'm far from 90. I'm going to try running now. In the rain. I've signed up for a half-marathon in May and previously I would be training hard by now but I don't even know if I can run a block.
Time to call the chiropractor and the massage therapist.
2 comments:
Oh, honey! I'm "only" sixty-one and I live with constant pain. Do I do anything about it? Not really. But I am starting to realize that I'm not going to be able to walk by the time I'm seventy (should I live that long) if I don't do something.
Take care of yourself.
Oh, please send me a little of your stamina and resolve to run in a marathon. I know I should get up off of my 52 year old ass and get it into shape before it's "too late," but I hate it. I just hate it.
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