Dearest Rachel –
I think there are certain things about life that you don’t – can’t, even – figure out until you reach a certain age. When I was a kid, for instance, it absolutely puzzled me that my grandfather (and later, my father) could fall asleep in his rocker-recliner, despite it being in the middle of the day (or the room being well-lit, at the very least) and the television being on. The combination of light and noise seemed like impossible barriers to slumber to my child self. Now, of course – and let’s face it, even ten or twenty years ago – I figured out the secret, whether I wanted to or not, and like you, I could fall asleep despite either or both of these obstacles being present. And, I hardly need to remind you, I wasn’t the only one.
Likewise, the assertion by members of older generations that they could sense the changes in weather in their joints and bones seemed far-fetched to me as well. Apart from feeling colder or warmer – both obvious effects which, admittedly could be felt deeper than just at skin level, given sufficient time and exposure – I couldn’t grasp the idea that weather affected one all that much on a physical level.
Now, however, I’m starting to think I understand.
Recently – maybe over just this past week, I’m not sure – I’ve been sensing some odd pain every time I get up, whether out of bed or from a chair. Most of it seems to be emanating from the back of my hip joints; they feel stiff and unyielding, much like I imagine the Tin Man would endure after going through a long stretch without being oiled or getting wet. It’s a new sensation for me, and not one I particularly enjoy.
At the same time, it doesn’t come as a great surprise to me, either. For all my complaints about how I hate having to go to the gym (especially in weather like this), I’ve been reasonably good at keeping up the habit. More weeks than not see me there six times rather than, say, three, and what I put myself through is considerably more vigorous now than it was when I first started last May, let alone what I’d been doing when I was stopping over at the Ridge Center the year before. And while I may be strengthening myself over time to the point where I may well be in the best shape I’ve been in in decades, there’s the fact that I’m still getting older every day, and there’s only so long I can keep this up before my aging body begins to suffer the ill effects of being pushed so hard, especially after so many years of being let go. So if I’m feeling sore first thing in the morning, it’s only to be expected.
What’s weird about it, though, is that you’d think if I stopped pushing myself so hard, the aches and pains would, if not stop completely, at least subside a bit. This weekend had me in the booth, with no time to work out, and my Monday back at the ‘office’ saw me catching up on tasks that had been left undone for days when I couldn’t start my car, so I didn’t leave the place until it was too late to stop by and get in any reps. And on the subject of the car, I skipped a day last week that would have normally seen me there at some point during the day; so that’s four days out of seven I wasn’t exercising. But did I feel less in my hips for having given them some rest? Not really.
What I have noticed (not as if I could ignore it, especially when I have to go somewhere) is that it’s been bitterly cold since the start of the week; I’ve even commented about it to you in an earlier letter. I’m wondering if the cold isn’t exacerbating what I’m feeling, just like our parents and grandparents used to (and, in some cases, still do) complain about.
This is something you never had to deal with, thanks to never having gotten this old; you can probably be grateful about that, among the many other things that you’re already praising God for up where you are. At the same time, I can recall that your muscles were often in need of a good kneading (which I was usually more than willing to help out with, since you often would repay me for doing so in a way that only you could), so maybe this sort of thing worked its way into them, even if it didn’t get quite as deep as your bones.
This coming week, I should be able to test this theory; a week out of town, where it’s warm, ought to be just the antidote I need. Granted, I’m not sure just how much warmer it will be – that snowfall I mentioned about in New Orleans? Yeah, apparently they got a foot of the stuff, which they don’t know what to do with. I wonder if there aren’t a whole bunch of Cajun bones that are aching in a way they’ve never ached before – and not just from trying to shovel their driveways with a garden spade. All of which leaves me wondering just how much warmth there will be in Miami to try to warm up my own joints in order to test my theory. Then again, we’ll be sailing that much further south from there; at some point, we’ll have to be somewhere that it can be tested suitably.
Until then, though, keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 