I got over, mostly, not being able to run. I am not doing so well with not walking. It feels boring and mundane to cry about it but I do cry about it. I cried in Newfoundland on the day everyone else went hiking. I could ride hundreds of kilometres but a hilly 10 km hike was way out of my range. I cry when I can’t walk Cheddar and some days when I can’t walk home from work. It’s not like I really suffer. I can ride my bike. Or a family member can pick me up. Cheddar has lots of people happy to walk him. Even the daughter of this blog’s Susan, who is studying at my university, has stopped by the help out, de-stress, and walk Cheddar.

Still though, it’s sad. (I’m looking forward to my new left knee.)

On our Facebook page I share stories of 86 year olds running the NYC marathon but here I am 55, and nervous about next weekend in New York. It makes me nervous now for the same reason I used to love visiting, so much walking. I still love the city but it feels like it’s not meant for me. It helps when I visit friends in Manhattan with their own mobility issues. They take variants of Uber and seem to get around just fine.

The thing is it’s the variability and unpredictably that gets me. I was stuck recently in downtown Toronto unable to put weight on my left leg. I didn’t have my cane or my knee brace and I was limping from place to place. Strangers gave me odd looks, like they were thinking I was alone and day drunk.

I burst into tears when I found a Starbucks and there was no place to sit. Other days it feels cranky but just cranky and I can walk a few kilometers without trouble. I just don’t know what to expect. There’s always aches and pains but sometimes it’s a dull thing in the background and other days it takes my breath away.

The choice to not walk isn’t straightforward. There are days when I just can’t but there are oodles of studies showing that it’s not making things worse to walk and might actually be helping. So when I can walk, I do. My pain tolerance has gone up and I suffer through walking when I can.I’m counting walks now in the 219 in 2019 group.

Here are three recent stories about walking and knee osteoarthritis. The tl:dr version: Walking doesn’t cause inflammation of the joint and doesn’t make the cartilage situation worse. I knew about the latter but not the former. Walking does help with joint mobility. The last story is striking because it’s about golf. When I tried it, I drove around in the buggy but according to this study I should have walked.

Do You Need to Stop Exercising If You Have Arthritis? Conventional wisdom holds that rest is key. Here’s what research says. That’s a headline from Runners’ World.

From that article: “The conclusion is that the perception about exercise being harmful for cartilage is based on misinformation, and highlights the need for better education, according to study author Alessio Bricca, Ph.D., of the Institute of Applied Health Sciences at the University of Aberdeen.

“People with knee osteoarthritis must be reassured that therapeutic exercise prescribed to prevent or treat symptomatic knee osteoarthritis is safe and, if anything, could improve cartilage composition,” he told Runner’s World. “Instead of rest and activity avoidance, these people should be encouraged, reassured, and supported to engage in physical activity.”

He added that exercise may temporarily cause pain flares when undertaken initially, but that those usually dissipate with time, especially if you’re careful to increase activity on a gradual basis.”

Short brisk walks may help prevent disability in people with arthritis

“An hour a week of moderate-to-vigorous physical activity reduced their risk of disability, the study found. Specifically, the activity reduced the risk of walking too slowly to safely cross a street by 85 percent, and their risk of not being able to do daily living activities — for example, morning routine tasks such as walking across a room, bathing and dressing — by nearly 45 percent.

By the end of the four years, 24 percent of participants who did not get a weekly hour of brisk physical activity were walking too slowly to safely cross the street, and 23 percent had difficulty performing their morning routines, according to the study.

About 14 million older Americans have symptomatic knee osteoarthritis, the most common type of osteoarthritis. About 2 in 5 people with osteoarthritis — most of whom have it in their lower joints — develop disability.

Federal guidelines recommend low-impact physical activity for older adults with arthritis, and recommend that older adults do at least 2.5 hours a week of moderate-intensity activity.”

Get off the golf cart if you have knee osteoarthritis Science Daily, April 18, 2018

” From presidents to retirees, more than 17 million people over the age of 50 golf regularly. Knee osteoarthritis, which causes swelling, pain and difficulty moving the joint, is one of the leading causes of disability in this age group. It may seem intuitive that golfers with knee osteoarthritis should stay off their feet and ride in a golf cart. But new research has found, for the first time, that walking the course provides significantly higher health benefits and is not associated with increased pain, cartilage breakdown or inflammation. “

I love this reminder that we don’t need boutique health club memberships to stay fit. We don’t need pricey gadgets or expensive clothing. We can choose to keep it simple. Memo is a very fast runner and he trains by running, a lot.

I’m not a runner but I approve of his idea. When I’m focused on keeping it simple I go to the gym to lift weights and I ride my bike and I walk the dog (when I can). That’s my baseline “keeping it simple” plan.

What’s “keeping it simple” look like to you?

https://www.nytimes.com/video/opinion/100000006780505/fintess-guillermo-morales-runner.html

I was walking to work the other day with my friend Mima, and I was telling her a story about being ignored in a local butcher shop. I mentioned, “you know, the invisible middle-aged woman” to which she replied “we are middle-aged?”

The story involved a “chi-chi locally grown, ethically raised meat shop” which typically has stellar service. But this day, I happened to go in midday when there was only one other person in the shop. One male clerk was assisting the other male customer. Another male clerk was in the back and after a minute or two started making his way to the front. I thought to help me, but he started chatting with the other customer. The other customer now had two clerks helping him for what seemed like a long time and I decided I didn’t need the chicken sausages I was planning to buy for dinner. One of the clerks saw me start to leave and he said “I’ll be a minute” and I said “it’s OK, I don’t think he needs both of you helping him so long while I’m waiting, but thanks.”

It may sound as though I am impatient and testy on occasion. This is true. However, I am conscious that as women get older they feel that they become increasingly invisible. In fact, later that day, I was at Metro picking up stuff for dinner. There was a massive lineup to get out because of the after-work crowd. These lines typically move pretty quickly, but I noticed a woman out of the corner of my eye, who had clearly been having a bad day. She was probably 10 years older than me, so I mean, who knows what type of slights she already experienced that day. She had clearly run out of patience that day and upon eyeing the lineup, she loudly exclaimed “this is f*cking ridiculous and dropped her bananas and a couple of other items in a huff and stormed out of the shop. I see and hear you, sister, and I hope your day got better after that.

When walking on a crowded sidewalk, or in the underground path, I often think in my head “do you not see me?” when I am trying to yield slightly to the right, but the other person is oblivious to the need to yield and I need to quickly move out of the way before getting elbowed. One of the reasons I was never a fan of dance clubs, is that I always felt that if someone was going to be knocked repeatedly, as if I was not seen as an obvious human obstruction to go around, it was going to be me. I have never felt comfortable waiting to “work in” at the squat rack at the gym, as I feel I have to make myself seen, if I want a chance to do my reps (and part of the reason I don’t go to a conventional gym). So, there was always a feeling of invisibility inside me.

I do feel as though it is happening more often, but does it happen to everyone, regardless of age, gender, attractiveness? Should I care? Just get over it? I mean mostly, I notice it and move on, but it doesn’t feel very badass (or feminist) of me to care whether I am seen or not.

I’ve heard other women lament that they don’t feel seen in the same way as when they were younger, fresher, “sexier”. That there’s no flirtatious banter or glances with men in public places. I rarely felt like I was the recipient of such (random) flirtations, or if I was, I wasn’t aware of it, even when younger, so what I am feeling these days relates to a broader sense of the world. To being seen. Period. As interesting, having something to say, something to give the world through a vocation.

Speaking of vocations, it is hard not to notice that opportunities geared towards “growing your career” or “learning leadership” skills in the corporate world tend to be geared towards younger adults who are just starting out, or people who are already in leadership roles (and looking for ways to enhance that role). I think that in an age where people are working longer than ever and typically will have more than one career, there is a gap for those of us who are still “looking for opportunities for growth” and are well into middle age. This can be disheartening if we are still looking for ways to make our mark.

Invisible Woman Syndrome, which apparently starts around 50, isn’t just a random nuisance. It is documented that it results in an absence of research, statistics, information about women’s health, particularly as they move beyond child-bearing age, which can be downright frustrating and dangerous.

One thing I know, in the scenario I described earlier in the butcher shop, I don’t feel as bad for leaving, showing my discomfort, as I might have before. I don’t beat myself up as much for acknowledging that I don’t like how I’m being treated at any given moment and stating it. I don’t think hours later, maybe I overreacted, should have stayed, shouldn’t have said what I did. As long as I wasn’t rude (I said it in a calm voice) I let it go (although what does that say about my acceptance of my own feelings of anger?). I am pleased with this evolution within myself. I’ll acknowledge any benefit of my current age/state of mind that I can.

Most of the time, I think I am at a great age/time. I love where I live. I am newly in love. I still feel as though I have time (and fortunately, good health*) to consider ways I can have purpose and be of service, whether through my career or otherwise. I am also more likely these days to seek out different opportunities, even if they are small. To say yes to things like writing for this blog.

Have you had an experience of feeling invisible that you attribute to being a middle-aged, or older woman? Does it bother you?

* kein ayin hora* – just throwing in some Yiddish there for good measure – “may the evil eye stay away”

Two weeks ago, at my Saturday morning cross-fit class, I pulse-squatted a baby.

Like, a real baby.  A cute one.

I did it partly for the cuteness and because she laughed in such a delightful way, and partly because the class was a bit tense because of some gym drama earlier that week, and I wanted to lighten it up a bit.  But, it turns out later, the joke was on me, because I clearly was doing something weird in my hips when I was holding her safe.

Then the next day, I got all Energetic and instead of running my planned 5km, ran 11km, which I hadn’t done for a while.  It was a beautiful day, and a great run.

Then my knees hurt.

And then my quads hurt.  And my hamstrings.  And lower back.  And neck.

I tried to switch up my workouts, do more yoga, stretch, just walk for a couple of days — and then I seemed to mysteriously pull a muscle in my groin.

I yearned for the Monday evening yoga class that used to be part of my regular week, but my studio recently switched things up, and my favourite instructor has gone missing on the schedule.  Instead of Flow Yoga with Farley Monday at 5, it was Qi Gong .

I’d heard of Qi Gong, and knew it was mostly an energy practice (Qi translates as chi, or chee). I had some notion that it’s one of the things Chinese people do in parks.  It didn’t seem outwardly “vigorous” — so I decided maybe getting in touch with my chi might halt the rampant disarray in my soft tissues.  (I also scheduled a therapeutic massage).

With no idea what to expect, I hauled myself over to class.

The instructor — a white guy named Mike — was super welcoming to newbies, and explained the purpose behind the practice as he guided us through a few sequences.  Qi Gong is basically intersected with Traditional Chinese Medicine, and is designed to balance the different matrices of energy in our body.  If you’ve ever had acupuncture, it’s aimed at the same meridians — to open up the flow between them.  Or, in western terms, increasing the flow or oxygenation of synovial and lymphatic fluids and blood.  There is an increasing body of evidence (in the western way of knowing) for the value of Qi Gong (and the sister practice of Tai Chi) for bone loss, immune function, physical function and agility, anxiety and cardiopulmonary function.   

The movements were deceptively simple — what might look like from the outside like a stretch, or a reach, or a gentle twist, or an undulation — but I noticed heat building very quickly in my body, and difficulty really focusing on the full range and balance of some of the movements.  Mike led us through three versions of each movement or sequence, starting first with the simple movement, then adding breath, then adding intention.

One of my biggest challenges was following the note that we should be the only ones who could hear our own breathing.  I’m used to Ujjayi breathing in yoga, or focused pilates breathing, both of which become an energy of their own.  In this Qi Gong practice, it was supposed to be attentive and focused breathing following my own energy — but quietly.  That was surprisingly hard for me.

Something in my body recognized that I was doing … something… that opened up… something.  Especially in the dragon tail bit.  I didn’t feel like I was “getting it,” exactly, and the aforementioned groin issue didn’t love the stance.  But something… was happening, and I liked it.

We finished the class with what Mike described as a “qi shower” (lots of tapping and slapping different meridian points), and then a yin practice of holding a “ball” of energy between our curved palms.  I didn’t feel much in the qi shower, but the ball of energy became surprisingly real.

I’m still a little bemused by it — I think I still have a block about the value of any kind of exercise that unfolds from the inside of the energy rather than from more aggressive movements.  I.e., — is it a workout if there’s no potential to hurt myself?  And the moments where I felt any kind of flow were — not surprisingly for a first foray — few.  But there was … something.

If I can get over my notion that being deeply present to my body “isn’t exercise,” I’ll give it another try. ]

Have you done Qi Gong or Tai Chi?  How was your experience?

Fieldpoppy is Cate Creede, who lives and overuses her fascia in Toronto.