Old age is not for wimps: for it takes a strong person to witness the deterioration of a once vibrant body from the inside out—up close and personal. The helpless feeling is overwhelming. Your mind cannot grasp the full ramification of this gradual event, so like the proverbial ostrich, head in the sand your butt takes a beating. Your mind keeps telling you to do things that your body won’t let you do “much,” or at all.
I played racket ball and taught water aerobics for years, now standing up from a seated position is a effort, mental reservations must be initiated to start the process, rocking forward to the end of the chair[ to accommodate short legs and low seating] might be required: then the final hoist, aided or unaided whatever the need may be. Once standing erect is achieved then comes the moment of awareness, accompanied by steadying, stretching, holding ones back, shaking off the stiffness and or pain is before the stride begins and momentum is attained. This inevitable sequence will be repeated: sedentariness is not our friend.
On reading the description of this saga you might be inclined to attribute these conditions only to the elderly, those older than dirt, a halting of the feeble:
Au Contraire:
I have seen the contorted look of pain on the faces of age thirty and under upon rising, victims of the Grinch who stills youth, back pain is ageless.
This situation is mind boggling to youngsters that sprint from place to place, it likewise is perplexing to us too {the elderly. When did the mechanics rust and movement become impaired?
When all of the aged “tools”, are gathered we laugh about our plight, reminiscing about the Good Old Days, when we hopped up from any kneeling or supine position without notice: when cloudy days had no “effect on our affect”, when we fearlessly walked up and down steps without measure. We chuckle at the groans of a day of “ Over doing it”, in the garden or yard work and we swear to pace ourselves next time. But we probably won’t, because time is fleeting, retirement is peaking, grand children are needing, and in our own way we are still competing for the joy in life.
Think about it.

Peggy Ann Barnhardt lives in Salisbury.