How Age can affect Jogging

It is funny getting old. When you were young, you got lots of energy to do things, but are generally not permitted to do everything you wish. Come the middle years, you can do almost anything you wish for, but is constrained with the little money that you had. Finally you got old enough to do everything and have the money to spend on any such endeavors, but still you can’t, why? Your body now grows weak with age and the youthful exuberance and energy has long gone. Why, oh why can’t someone have their cake and eat it too? One cannot really fathom life’s mysteries; one can only go with the flow and take whatever is given to him.

Such is the story of my life. I have wanted to go jogging for ages now. I’m getting a little bit bulkier in the wrong places, the belly in particular, and also am feeling a bit lethargic with the daily routine repeating itself over and over again. I need to add something to it to not sound monotonous and jogging is my first step. But reasons always seem to present themselves when I am about to start with something, and how enticing they can be. It’s very hot outside, I’ve no one to jog with, I got a big hangover, I’m tired, are just a few of them. Making these reasons valid is easy as pie and more gratifying, but I really need to ward them off if I am to be successful with anything.

Come the day that I finally got the resolve to do it, cancelling everything, and made time just for it. Jogging suit on, water bottles on the ready, headphones with my favorite type of music blaring in my ears, I stepped outside the door. It was not hot that day and there was a gentle breeze wafting around me, what a perfect day to start. I got to about two blocks, a third, fourth and so on, I was feeling it. When I got to about two miles, I said to myself to not overdo it and to just repeat it again tomorrow, I finally decided to head back home. Nearing our house, and after jumping over a curve, I felt a slight twinge in my right hip area. I didn’t mind it and got into the house.

The next day upon waking up, I can no longer lift up my right leg to get out of bed. Long story short, my grinning wife accompanied me to the doctor later that afternoon and was diagnosed with hip flexor pain. Not yet torn or damaged, but still serious enough to warrant pain medicines. My legs were so stiff, that you might think I was a robot with the way I walked that day. Extended house rest, immobilization for at least a day and several anterior hip precautions were advised to not further exacerbate the injury.

A minor setback I kept saying to myself. I will get back with it soon as I get healed of this thing. But next time, I promise to remember, to first do stretching and warm ups before trying to run. Forgetfulness, it seems, is also part of growing old.