June 12, 2007
Wenchie's Run
Remember that movie "Logan's Run," where life was perfect because people were only allowed to live until they were 30? (And until I looked it up just now, I didn't even know Farrah Fawcett was in that movie. I just remember Michael York. Sorry, Farrah, I'm sure your hair looked fabulous!)
I'm telling you, that is totally the way to go.
I'm only 37, and my body has been falling apart for years. Since turning 30, I have...
1. Developed allergies, for which I take three different drugs every day.
2. Had my metabolism grind to a screeching, ass-expanding halt.
3. Discovered the joys of adult-onset acne.
4. Undergone major surgery.
5. Injured myself by running across the street.
I could go on, but I'm starting to tear up.
The point is, if someone had killed me at 30, I would have died at the top of my game... and, more importantly, the top of my physical appearance.
Most recently, it's my knees that have been giving me trouble. At first, I thought it was a by-product of my as-yet-unhealed sprained ankle, so I ignored it for six months. In the words of that great philosopher, Homer... Simpson, "I am so smart! S, M, R, T!"
While Husband and I were checking out the barn a couple weeks ago, something happened that convinced me I should quit being a guy and just friggin' tell my doctor already!
See, my knees don't bother me when I'm just walking around. Not a bit. Stairs give me some trouble. The more I do, the worse it gets, especially the left knee.
But the real epiphany happened when I was climbing a completely vertical ladder to the hay loft. I got two rungs up, and it felt like someone was hammering nails directly into my kneecaps. And being the rocket scientist that I am, it dawned on me, "That's probably a sign of real trouble."
So when I was at my latest appointment with Dr. Hottie, I told him all about my 83-year old knees -- where they hurt, when they hurt, crap like that. I was lying down at the time, so he grabbed my left ankle and brought it up to my face. You can imagine the cry of agony that followed.
Mind you, I've always wanted to have Dr. Hottie throw my ankles behind my ears, but I kinda envisioned that we'd both be naked and panting at the time.
[Gimme a moment to go to my Happy Place... Mmmmmmm...]
Dr. H: Your hamstrings are tight.
PW: Well, duh.
Dr. H: Do you ever stretch them?
PW: Of course not. What the hell does that have to do with my kneecaps?
Dr. H: [insert overly technical explanation of how hamstrings are connected to some piece of cartilage or something directly behind the kneecaps]
PW: Well, I'm sure that made sense to you. Dude, I've never stretched my hamstrings in my entire life. Why is this happened now?
Dr. H: I dunno. Because you're old?
PW: Nice.
Dr. H: Surgery is always an option.
PW: I'm not having knee surgery!
Dr. H: Then stretch your damn hamstrings!
And I pay him for this abuse. That's the part that kills me.
Moral of the story: Always go to a doctor that's older and in crappier shape than you.
Comments
I recommend yoga 3Xweekly. It will stretch your hamstrings out and detox your entire body. Marg Helgenberger from CSI does yoga 6Xweekly and look how beautiful her skin is!
Posted by: Kelly Garrett at June 12, 2007 04:13 PM
OK, this is scary. I'm undergoing most of that myself! Particularly the ass-expanding change of metabolism (mine is expanding my gut even faster, though!) and the allergies. Yes with three different medications for them!
And now? I'm doing Physical Therapy for my knees. Stretching my hamstrings, stretching my quads... Doing leg lifts, too.
Are you sure we're not related???
Posted by: some_other_dave at June 12, 2007 07:06 PM