I’ve passed the milestones everyone my age has. Some I like, like developing patience and wisdom. I may not have much of them, but more than before.

I felt my potential strength decrease in my thirties. In my forties I lost yet more, and found even walking counted as exercise.

Also in my forties, I noticed injuries took longer to heal. Injuries that in my twenties would hurt and affect functionality momentarily, then go away, and in my thirties bother me for a while, in my forties would linger for months. Months!

I have three pains that have lingered for months that I don’t think even injuries caused. I’m writing and editing a lot. I think they came from just sitting too long without moving. One is in my shoulder, another in my neck, another in my gluteus—that is, literally a pain in my butt.

I have barely changed my workout over years. The calisthenics that used to feel challenging in the moment but the rest of the day just something I did now make me fatigued much of the time. It’s odd that something would make me feel both fatigued and strong. It’s hard to explain. I’m not going to stop the calisthenics since they help in many ways, but I acknowledge a day will come when I will at last decrease how much I do for my fitness sidchas. Rather, I acknowledge it’s not that far off. I’m human. I’m vulnerable. I wonder how long I’ll last before succumbing. Writing about it feels like a step toward giving in, but intellectually I don’t see why it should.

I’m not complaining. I’m just describing a part of life. I’m reflecting that of all the milestones of aging, the time it takes to heal from injuries affects me most.

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