After spending half the day yesterday worrying that I was having atypical angina, I figured out what I did to screw my back up. I (reluctantly) went to the pool, thinking I would just skip any exercises that made me hurt. My workout actually served to loosen up my back, so obviously that wasn't the problem. Then I took the dog for a walk and we went to the field to throw her ball...BINGO. Dog-ball-throwing made exactly the same muscles hurt in exactly the same way.
So why do I write about such a stupid, trivial episode? It all has to do with the title of this journal--coming to terms with middle age. I realize that I'm not as active as I was twenty years ago, but I'm not exactly a total couch potato, either. Why is it that the most innocent little bit of physical exertion, if it's something that is not normally in my pattern of exercise for a day, can reduce me to a cripple? Throwing the ball for the dog, for God's sake? This is one thing I really HATE about getting older...it basically hurts to move, but if you DON'T move, it hurts more. I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but after awhile, it just wears you down. Pile it on top of the lovely symptoms of menopause, and it's really no wonder so many women my age are so bitchy.
I was having the same type of thoughs yesterday. When did health insurance become such a big deal in my life? Dental? Having enough money saved just in case I loose my job! And what if I have some sort of medical problem! Yikes! Really enjoyed reading your journal entries.
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