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.