On March 24 I did what I thought would be my last workout on
the heavy-bag and barbells. I figured
that as a card carrying member of the sixty-plus crowd I was too old for curls
and bench-presses and decided that I really did not care if I grew frailer and
flabbier than I was. There would be no
more pushups or pullups either. Hell,
whom was I kidding anyway? Those
workouts were nothing but minimal maintenance and I would never again be a
lithe, resilient, youngster. Doing
chores around the house and some short daily walks around the neighborhood would
have to serve as exercise.
Two nights ago, I got the reminder as to WHY I was doing
those workouts, and it had nothing to do with overall physical fitness. I had totally forgotten about my trick left
shoulder; the last time it acted up was maybe half-dozen years ago during
another period of indolence. You see, if
my shoulder muscles are not in shape, my left shoulder dislocates on a whim,
the result of an injury from many decades ago.
The first warning is just a bit of pain and a faint “clunk” when I move
it. Then comes the grinding and incessant
sharp pain, followed by a dislocation.
Popping it into place and keeping it where it belongs is a problem. The only long-term “cure” is to carefully yet
diligently recondition the muscles so they hold the ball and socket where they
belong; the process takes about 6 – 8 weeks.
After that, as long as the muscles are kept in shape the shoulder
behaves.
Excruciating pain does motivate me when my vanity fails to
do so. Old age is not kind to those
without resolve.
