I was feeling the same way yesterday as I watched the end of the US Open. I'm not much of a golf fan but I do enjoy seeing Tiger Woods play. He's like Gretzky to me, one of those athletes who is a category-killer. He draws in the casual fan because he is so good, so dominant, so capable of things that others just can't do. What made his OT win so interesting to me was that he was golfing on a bad knee. Whenever I've golfed it's my back that kills me afterwards, my knees usually survive OK. But I have not had chronic knee problems or three surgeries, one a just a couple of months ago. The TV guys were really good at showing how Tiger's left knee was woven into the mechanics of his swing and how the pain he was clearly enduring was effecting it. The winces, especially in the third round, looked real.
As the holes went by, it got me thinking about pain, the physical variety, and what we put up with for our sports.
After eight months of basketball, what are the genetic freaks on the Celtics and Lakers carrying around tonight? Hips, knees, backs, toes? I was watching a bit of the France-Italy game this afternoon and it occurred to me that some of those players out there, the guys who play top-flight club football, plus Champions League, plus for their country; will be approaching seventy or eight matches this season. That has to take its toll.
Then, of course, there is the rest of us.
I learned an important lesson about pain 15 years ago. I was 30 then, and reading a copy of Esquire. The story I remember was about being a jock in your 40s. I don't remember a lot of the detail of the piece, but I do remember this piece of advice: take your anti-inflammatories BEFORE you work out, not afterwards. That rule has worked for me ever since. And it speaks to the reality of the aging athlete: it isn't about preventing pain, it is about managing it.
Throughout my life I have played sports. Mostly team sports, a few years of really bad tennis and many summers sailing. Now I mostly run, with some soccer, hockey and softball thrown in for variety.
At my age, I cannot play any of them without paying for it in some way afterwards. When I run, my knees and hips get sore. Hockey? My back. Soccer? Quads, knees, feet. Even softball has left me sore, these days it's a wonky knee that doesn't respond well to stopping and starting. When I am training for a marathon, I simply resign myself to the fact I will be sore a lot. If I play a hockey tournament, I can count on needing three or four days to fully recover.
"Recover" is really the important word here. I remember being sore after playing soccer when I was 20-years-old, but it never lasted long, a few hours. I remember some back pain from hockey, but it would go away pretty quickly, usually overnight, even well into my 30s. I recovered quickly, and I could go out and do it again.
About six years ago I took up running more seriously. Over time I added miles. I started running marathons. I have nine under my belt now and I don't intend to stop. At points (last fall for instance) I have been in tremendous condition. I have managed to attain and maintain a level of fitness I haven't had since my mid-20s. I'm 30 pounds lighter than at my peak in late 2001. So it would take a lot, I mean A LOT, to give up the fitness, the three inches on my waist and the two suit sizes.
But Christ, do I get sore now. When I run I feel it in my knees, sometimes my lower back. My rule is no Advil for any run less than an hour (Advil works best for me, but kills my stomach). But these days it doesn't take as much to make me sore. The pain I feel when I run isn't the kind that yells at me to stop. I would pay attention to that. It's the kind that nags. It tells that I am going to feel it when I stop. That is what bugs me.
The pain you feel when you compete is the earned variety. You can mask it in the service of performance (Aleve gets me through a marathon, Advil a soccer or hockey tournament), and there is a good pain that comes when the game or race is over. Post-marathon pain is especially sweet. Finishing 26.2 miles is an accomplishment. Period. Three or four days of shredded quads are a badge of honour, not a medical emergency.
But it's the other pain I have trouble with, the kind that is asking me some tough questions. Can I keep on doing this? Is this really good for me? Should I slow down?
There is no cure for aging. I seem to have hit a wall of sorts in the last six months or so. I am staying sore longer. I have lost flexibility. I notice my performance decays if I miss a few days on the road. You can't win! Take a break from the grind to let your body recover and your body starts to revert to couch potato status. Not fair.
I simply can't keep on doing the things I like to do without doing some things that help my body recover. I don't take enough hot baths, or cold ones either. I don't ice my knees frequently enough. I should try yoga for runners. I should get more massages. I should stretch more. I should probably do more strength training. I should remember to take my glucosamine three times a day EVERY day. And the occasional Advil would help too.
The last thing? I have to remember. When I'm moaning at my aches and pain, I have to remember how good it feels to run well, to score a goal, to make a good pass. How good it feels to push my body past its comfort zone. How good it feels to find the runner's high.
The pain is a pain, and it is part of being active as you get older. Nobody is immune. But it isn't the end of the world, or the end of game or the race. It's just what you live with.
No comments:
Post a Comment