Just a Number

A few days ago my Instagram feed had a video of runners on a track, with audio of the cheering crowd in the bleachers. It looked like any track race, except that the competitors were not young and not very fast. The headline read, "90-99 age division, 50m" and the caption, "Six fearless women competed in the 90-99 age division of the 50M dash at the 2023 National Senior Games. Age is just a number!"

Note: This photo, by the National Senior Games Association, does not show the 90-99 age division. But these women aren't young, either. Photo © NSGA.

This seems like a good time to mention that a couple of weeks ago I started running again – not far, not fast, and not every day. My running pace is never more than a minute or so faster than my average walking pace, and that's okay. I'm completely over feeling inadequate and anxious because my pace is slowing. Maybe it's the wisdom of age that has gotten me over it.

Only, I'm very reluctant to jump to age as the reason for anything.

As I ran along my path the morning after seeing that Instagram post, I thought, I look like those women in the video. My feet barely leave the ground, my forward movement is very slow, and my gait probably looks more like waddling than running. And I'm more than 20 years younger than the youngest of them.

Okay, I'm mostly over feeling inadequate and anxious. And those judgments I'm making of myself ... so, what? I'm not in competition with anyone, of any age, except my own best self. I have the power to make choices about running, the same ones I make about anything I do that challenges me to grow.

Choice 1: I can quit. I can decide that this is too hard, or that I don't like it. I can make excuses for giving it up, a popular one among people in my age cohort being ... age. At an earlier time in my life, my excuse for not running was that I had tiny children in my house. Of course I couldn't leave them alone, and besides, I had no time to run.

It's obvious to me now what a crock that excuse was. I could have done my running, or another exercise, at a time of day when my husband was at home. I could have invested in a jogging stroller or bike trailer to pull the kids along. I could have used the gym or taken classes at the YMCA during hours they offered child care. I had choices then, and I have them now. "I can't" is just the easiest one.

Choice 2: I can do the thing, while working within my limits. These days, my limits mostly involve certain cranky joints, especially my left knee and the left side of my neck. Probably osteoarthritis is involved, but guess what? According to the Arthritis Foundation, "People of all ages, races and sexes live with arthritis."

Recommendations for managing osteoarthritis nearly always include regular physical movement and exercise, and the Arthritis Foundation's website has many resources on their Healthy Living page, including resources for people just getting started, or re-started, with movement.

What I've learned from a couple of decades of moving with joint limits is that some days are easier than others, and that joint mobility can be maintained and even regained through consistent exercise.

This doesn't mean that I have to run till I die, although that's possible. It does mean that I listen to my body and my heart, in order to know my real needs, both in this moment and over time. This run or other exercise that I think I ought to go do, but don't want to – do I really need to rest today, or do I need to push through my laziness and start the exercise? Most often, it's the latter.

A woman in my church celebrated her 100th birthday last month. Reflecting with her friends about her life, Emmy Lu spoke of her many years of acting and dancing.

I do these things, I've done them all my life, because it fulfills me. ... Now I do qigong." – Emmy Lu, age 100

Her manner of movement has changed, from more vigorous to slower and gentler. But Emmy Lu is still moving.