Oh, the tricks our minds play on us at this senior age of 80+ years old. Or, maybe at any age. I’ve always been an active person, engaging in physical exercise of one form or another all the way from vigorous weight-lifting to cross country running to chair yoga. Recently, it’s more finger exercises as I maneuver from one button on the TV remote to the next.
Nearly 10 years ago, at age 72, I worked with a trainer to improve my strength so I could lift the large water jugs you buy at the grocery store for those at-home water coolers. I was under the delusion when I bought the water cooler, that I would easily be able to change the jugs when needed. Well, not so. Those jugs are exceptionally heavy and awkward. Reality forced me to deal with the challenge of living alone and needing strength that I no longer had. I always was way stronger than my 5’2″ frame appeared. I prided myself for my upper body strength. what happened? All those years is what happened!
I wanted to easily lift those jugs up into the dispenser stand that I had at home. My options were to find a neighbor or friend to do the lifting or figure out how I was going to do it myself. That was my goal, lift and place those jugs. I don’t mind asking for help, but I prefer to do things for myself if I can.
So, to the local gym I went, looking for a trainer to help me reach my goal. Izzy was the trainer that worked with me on various types of weights along with overall strength and balance training. She was great and understood what I needed as a senior. I eventually worked up to 90# on the barbell in a deadweight lift. What a thrill. I never believed I would be able to lift that amount of weight and certainly not at age 72. I think back and wish I had gone up 10 more pounds to 100#. That would have been a nice ultimate goal. At 90# of weight, I figured that was enough at the time. I accomplished my goal of being able to easily lift those water jugs.
At another point in time, I self-trained to run a 10k or 6.21 miles in Bismarck, ND. I know many women train and run marathons. I don’t and never did see myself at that athletic level or even a desire to do a marathon. A 10k was a significant challenge for me.
I entered the WMCA 10k fundraiser challenge at the “senior” division level. The senior division was for 30+ years of age contestants. I figured I was safe with that level of competition. I was 34. After all, it was “seniors.” I imagined that it was old people in their 50’s and 60’s. I had a good chance to at least finish in the middle of the pack. Right? Just the fact that I was running that far was an amazed me. Like I said, I’ve always exercised but never thought of myself as “athletic.”
That Saturday morning was sunny and warm already. The announcement came for the senior contestants to line up. I looked around. Wow! I was the only woman and the men that stood beside me were the 30+ year-old men who had once been jocks and had aged into “still wannabe” jocks. These guys looked to be in their early thirties. None of them even had gray hair. What was I thinking? Not one to walk away from a challenge, I planted my feet ready to sprint ahead at the sound of the blow horn. Needless to say, the men quickly disappeared over the first hill. I felt like the turtle left in the dust. I continued my steady jog. The men were actually running, not jogging. I knew if I ran, I would physically be finished by the time I made it over the first hill. So, I jogged. I accepted the fact that I would come in last in the senior division. What a joke, “senior division.”
The designated trail turned from the concrete sidewalk to an asphalt jogging trail to a dusty hiking trail. It went up and down four hills and looped around at about mile 4.
I must have been at about mile 2 or 3. I heard the faint blast of the blowhorn indicating that the next group was leaving the starting line. I redirected my focus on one foot in front of the other and tried to pick up the pace. So far, my legs were doing their best to keep going. The sun was beating down and sweat began to bead up on my face and to trickle down between my breasts. Hang in there, Deb. You can do this. Lordy! How much farther do I have to go?
Whoa! Wait a minute! A little kid about 8 years old just flew by me. My pace faltered as I tried to evaluate what just happened. Wait! There goes another one. And another. And another. This must be the group that took off with that last blast of the blowhorn. Yikes! I’m being outpaced by the kids. Now, a little girl who must be about 6 years old just pranced by, looked up at me, smiled and said I was doing great. My self talk kicked in – “Well, just keep on keeping on. The finish line can’t be that far. I can see the far loop that turns us around and comes back.” The senior men were passing me heading back to the finish line. Little girls and boys kept passing me heading out to the far hills and the loop that would bring them back as well. Their little bodies seemed to float over the ground. I could hear and feel my heavy foot falls. The heat and the distance were taking a toll. As each kid passed me, my positive attitude faltered a bit more. Wow! I might come in last, truly last.
I made the loop which gave me a burst of energy. And finally I came up over the final hill to see the finish line down by the YMCA building. The kids parents were jumping up and down as more kids passed me and crossed the finish line. I halfheartedly smiled and waved a tired hand trying to cover up my embarrassment when the parents cheer me as I crossed the finish line. If I remember correctly, there were actually a couple of kids that finished after I did. The senior men had long since crossed the finish line and were most likely at a bar celebrating, probably talking about the blonde bimbo that thought she could run a race against them. Only in my fantasies did I run the race and out pace a few of the truly old guys but that didn’t actually happen.
One thing about it, I can say I ran a 10k race and finished. That was another thing I never thought I would do. Actually, I never thought about it at all until I signed up that day and lined up at the starting line in the “Senior” division with all those guys.
That brings back to thinking I can do things that, in reality, perhaps there’s more to it than that. Life has a way of shifting and circumstances alter and change.
Deb’s Blog 