Getting older

I came across this two decades old column the other day and realized that it’s still true. Unfortunately, things haven’t changed all that much and now I’m 20+ years older with four joint replacements and teeth that are still cracked. Plus, I’ve developed Type 2 diabetes in the interim. There’s not a lot of joy in getting older, but, like they say, it beats the alternative. Enjoy.

A couple of things happened this past week that got me thinking about my personal situation and life in general. I have always had great teeth. My gums could use a little improvement, but the teeth were always rock solid – until recently. A bite down on a rib bone chip has caused me no end of pain and discomfort from a cracked tooth. So much for that invulnerability.

My visit to the dentist came after a longer absence from the dental chair than I remembered. Around that same time, I received a note from a former co-worker informing me of the death of a retired associate. As I networked with other old friends from work, I found out that a second retiree is seriously ill with cancer and the prognosis is not good. This recent passing marks the third former co-worker who has died and, unfortunately, it sounds like the fourth is not too far off.

If you’ve seen the photo that usually accompanies my column, you have probably noted that my flowing brown hair and full blondish beard have all turned that basic shade of senior gray (now fully white). While the photo doesn’t really show it, my once chiseled, “Charles Atlas” body also has taken a turn for the worse. Now I look like your pudgy Great-Uncle Joe (this time of year, folks greet me by saying “Hi, Santa!”).

My self-esteem is further dinged when I realize that I am old enough to be several good friends’ grandfather or their much older brother.

Now that we’ve finally gotten our first snowfall, I find myself cringing at the thought of having to wrestle the snowmachine out of a snowbank rather than anxiously anticipating the first ride of the season. I think of how tiring snowshoes can be rather than anticipating a hike through the snowy spruce thickets looking for grouse. And don’t even mention cross-country skis.

Yet even as you age, you can still enjoy the great outdoors. You just need to know when to slow up a bit and how fast to pace yourself. The first thing you need to do is start a program to regain or maintain your physical fitness. See your doctor and discuss what type of program you should follow to accomplish your personal goals for long-term health.

Generally, such a program will involve some level of physical activity and “nutritional awareness.” I won’t use the word “diet” because nobody can live their life dieting. You need to change your lifestyle so that healthy eating habits are developed and maintained.

You also must realize what you can and can’t do outdoors as you age. I was talking with an old friend and fellow retiree the other day. He commented about how the exertion of butchering and packing out, by himself, the moose that he shot last year almost killed him. I can relate. We’re now talking about going on a caribou hunt together next year (I wish!). The work will be the same, just more help and the pieces will be smaller and easier to manage.

As you age, you also need to start thinking smarter to accomplish the same results. When I was in my “prime,” I could muscle my way through about any outdoor situation. Now I find myself devoting large quantities of gray matter toward solving different outdoor scenarios, either by avoiding the problem to begin with, which is the preferred method, or by using a piece of machinery or tool to substitute for brawn.

Thinking your way out of a situation doesn’t hurt nearly as much as those strained back muscles.

I’ve already seen my doctor and we both agree – I need to lose weight and rebuild my stamina. The stationary bicycle and weightlifting bench are currently within my sight, covered with dust. Now I just need the motivation. (At this point, the exercise will also greatly help my control of my diabetic situation also). I think being the last surviving retiree from my “group” could be a good reason too.

Okay, now where did I put that dust rag?