When is a runner no longer a runner? When they no longer run. 30 years later…
I am not a runner. My body has declared war on itself and I’m held captive on my ship, waves of doubt crashing against the side, storms of serious uncertainty, and I’m huddled inside my body wondering “Am I old now? Is this where I no longer get to be me and start having to be old lady me?
Where last year I started thinking I was going to “fix it” this year, it’s now next year and it’s not fixed. Afraid of the pain, I am in limbo trying to decide who I am now and how I define myself now.
I assume this is the slippery slope of age. When you begin to fear your own body. Every twitch and tick, every ache and pain seem to be the harbinger of bad news to come. And if you haven’t been upkeeping yourself, visiting the primary Physician, exercising, or eating well, you can be even more terrified. You may be sure this was all preventable if only…
For me, I know it’s not a matter of my diet or exercising enough. It may be about exercising too much and probably genetics. I have all the specialists lined up, they’re just not helping fast enough. No one expects me to be 51 or in pain. They underestimate how far I’ve already come.
There are all sorts of crazy cool treatments now to fix all sorts of things. And I’m headed for a few of them. I just thought I’d have the procedures and the pain behind me already. So it takes as long as it takes. Expectations are tough not to have. And I start again.
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