Half a hundred

Actually, half a hundred and one. Fifty one years and counting. I won't lie. It's sobering. I'm not even sure I can lay claim to middle age anymore, but I certainly can't kid myself that I am young...lol!* (as if I was managing to fool anyone but myself!!!)

And truth be told, at this time last year, when I actually hit the half-century mark, I was really starting to feel 'my age'.**

This included:

- Being so stiff in the mornings that it took a while to 'warm up' sufficiently before negotiating the stairs. Stairs that seem to have a decidedly mocking timbre to the creak as you limp your way down them, wishing all the while you hadn't removed the handrail all those years ago***, and resolving for the millionth time to fit a new one.

- An increasing use of the elderly 'ooff' when a modicum of effort is required. This starts innocuously enough, as sort of involuntary declaration of surprise, but develops all too quickly into an indispensable part of getting in or out of cars, or sitting down/getting up from, say, an overly-low settee (ooofff!!!).

- An inability to eat kidney beans without getting rather a lot of tummy pain followed, eventually, by rather a lot of potentially embarrassing/hilarity inducing relief.****

- Remembering that you forgot to purchase a new handrail for the stairs. Again.*****

These, and several other things - including turning fifty last year - prompted a much overdue turnaround.

Goodbye then smoking, boozing, and car. Hello there bicycle and Bikram yoga.

Ok, not a turnaround exactly, but some significant lifestyle choices that have had quite an impact. Such as...

- I haven't had anything remotely resembling a cold for months. Not a one. (If ever a person tempted fate..)

- I find I like being sober: drink now just makes me feel either sleepy or irritable, neither of which are particularly desirable in most 'drinking' type ie social situations. And without fail, regardless of quantity consumed, I feel miserable and look raddled the next day. I used to like it, rather a lot truth be told, but now I can't imagine why. ******

- I can breathe again. I don't know why I couldn't manage to quit smoking until recently, despite trying several times. In what felt like desperation I turned finally to Paul McKenna's hypno-method (having previously very much poo-pooed such approaches), and bing-bong pretty much overnight no more smoking. I shall always wonder why I made such a song and dance about it. Even so, I confess, I do get the odd nostalgic yearning for a nice relaxing fag, but I haven't indulged it. And for some reason I don't expect I will. It just feels like that part of my life, the smoking and drinking part that now makes me cringe with embarrassment for some reason is over. It's a huge relief. And, actually, it's liberating to not 'need' those undeniably inessential things.

My vice of choice now (excessive tea drinking aside) is definitely the yoga. The beautiful-crazy-wonderful Bikram******* yoga that I discovered six months ago and have fallen thoroughly in love with. I practise regularly: maybe three or four times a week. And I credit it with moving me towards some semblance of good health that I may not deserve (see previously bad choices above) at a far greater pace than I might otherwise be going.

I suppose I might have had equally gratifying and apparently effective results from some other form of exercise. I used to swim a lot, and enjoyed going to those hilarious eighties style step classes. And I did, recently and briefly, try running. Running however, is hands down the most awful thing I've ever tried exercise-wise. If I have any advice to offer anyone heading toward fifty and looking to shape up a bit, it would be 'don't take up running', it will only speed up your demise, starting with the painful ruination of your knees.

Anyway, here I am, already up to my ankles in my sixth decade, finding it to be not half bad so far. That said, I have entirely lost sight of why I'm writing this post, and therefore refer you back to footnote*****.

XXXXX



*See what I did there? (lol)

** What age, other than the one a person is, might a someone feel? It's one of those rather slippery expressions that manages to evoke a very particular but difficult to describe state of awareness; in this case the creeping realisation that, due to the insidious manifestation of a variety of increasing frustrations, you are starting feel 'old'.

*** The handrail went for aesthetic reasons. At the time I didn't associate not needing it with also having youthfully flexible hips, knees, and ankles.

**** Comic as well as gastric relief of course. Getting 'old' does not necessarily preclude finding farts and farting gloriously and childishly funny.

***** Remembering that you forgot*. This decidedly odd phenomena is a pretty regular feature on my personal landscape and possibly isn't actually something that has developed with age. As far as I can tell I've been remembering things I thought I'd forgetten since, well....since I don't when! Pfft.

****** This makes it seem as if I had a drinking 'problem'. I didn't. At least I don't think I did. Or, if I did, it resolved itself quietly and gradually as I have become less and less interested in alcohol. These days, I find the smell and taste pretty horrible. I don't miss it.

******* Bikram yoga is very controversial, not least because it's deemed 'extreme' due to the heat and humidity. I agree, it's a bit out there. And not everyone likes it or should do it - it all depends on your particular personal set of circumstances. And it isn't easy. But it's also pretty much just yoga in a sauna.

*Yes I am playing fast and loose with the footnotes. Just go with it, and be thankful that I can't be bothered to figure out a fool-proof way to re-reference the main body of the text from the footnotes because I really want to, BUT I'm having my windows replaced and the house is freezing, so I think I might go and warm up in the library for an hour or two instead.