“We don’t stop playing when we grow old, we grow old when we stop playing.” 

(said someone we should listen to)

My muscles ached. My back and hips were stiff. My knees were weak. I was hungover after only two beers (damn altitude in New Mexico), and my attitude sucked. Was this the new normal? Fuck no. 

Last summer, my calendar was full for the following three months with doctor’s appointments, MRIs, EKG tests, consultations with neurologists, back/pain management and even an orthopedic surgeon. To get through each day, I took various strong prescriptions for pain, others for sleep, gummies for both. I drank pints after pints of beer to shut off my brain. I lay down most afternoons although that didn’t help but there’s only so much sitting I could do and well, my mood went from happy with life to grief for my aging doggy best friend, Harold, and I just didn’t have it in me to walk or go anywhere without him at my side. We were a mess. Poor Billie, the young dog who moped around, bored. 

By September, Harold had died with me next to him, stroking his sweet face, telling him how much he’d meant to me over the 14 ½ years together. He’s gone but I’m still here. And I’m doing well. Better than ‘well’…Over winter, I couldn’t carry on as I was, what with all the pain pills, unable move freely, feeling like crap, limping, back pain, low energy. Something had to change. 

It did. Or rather, I did. 

I changed my attitude and understanding of pain, of health, of living life fully. Other changes included moving more, building strength, yoga, meditation, playing, walking three plus miles a day, eating lighter foods, drinking less beer, drinking more water with lime and salt, and looking into the idea of what gives my life meaning. Am I healed? No, there’s still arthritis in my hips, scoliosis (or was it stenosis?) in my lower back, worn knees, and the stiffness and limp when standing up after too long sedentary. Yet… yet, I’m happy with my body as it is, getting in shape, toned, and most days pretty energetic. 

This is fifty-six. 

I’m reclaiming my health and as a result – my sense of joy in being alive. I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m still here. 

I think of this document then as a toolkit. Options. Suggestions. Reminders. These are the steps I’ve taken that work for me, the practices I can turn to when my mood has tanked, or I’m not moving enough, when depression has caught me and my aches and pains think they own me. They don’t. The following tools are research-based, coming from books and podcasts with peer reviewed recommendations but, hey, I’m no scientist. I’m not going into the details of the neuroplasticity or neural pathways to pain, cells reactions to stress, mitochondria and microbiome, or the blah de blahs. That’s why you’ll find a resources list at the end if you want to find out more. This is just my personal understanding of peer-reviewed research into the realm of health, longevity, and joy. It’s my experiment in feeling better and living more fully.

First, I wanted to understand pain, my perception of pain. What is going on and why? I read Unlearn Your Pain by Howard Shubiner, MD and listened to an interview or three with the man, he was a bit full of himself but something struck me enough to buy the book and work through some of his suggestions. Shubiner talked about how there’s the pain as a warning of fight, flight, and get your hand out of the bleedin’ flame type of pain, but there’s so much more to it than that. The neurological patterning and our responses can come from accidents, events, traumas and even simply become a habit. Ah, yes, that’s what caught me, the questions about these habits we have, and how do they serve us. The habit loop and how does this pain serve me? Well, I’d get attention from friends, as if to show me that they noticed, cared, but it’s a negative attention and not how I want to be seen or treated.

“Oh dear. You’re still limping?” 

Was it a question or a statement my friend was making? Did she think I didn’t know? It’s been a bit of a relief to be away, living and working in a town where I know no one. The people I do meet here don’t comment on my health or fitness or stiffness or limps. I know it’s done out of concern by my friends but it’s a bloody nice not to hear comments like “what’s wrong with ––?” 

From reading Unlearn Your Pain, I saw how my brain would get stuck on the idea of this chronic pain of arthritis, all the limitations, and a lingering poor-me syndrome. I learned how to shift that pattern, to see the difference between pain and discomfort and saw the sensations more as a reminder to stretch, rather than as a full alert or as danger signals. 

The workbook suggested writing out the elements that trigger this chronic pain I’d been fighting for too long. What made it worse? My high pain recipe, as Shubiner called it, included being without my own home, lying down too long, not exercising, drinking too much/often, bad sleep, and not doing what I love e.g. driving and exploring mountains and beaches with dogs at my side, writing up my observations and laughing with my close friends.

The opposite then is the low pain recipe. My notes include things I’m writing about here, sleep, meditation, stretch, be active, refocus on positive things, gratitude, do whatever I want anyway (as best as I can),  deal with stressors and eliminate as much as possible (I’m doing pretty well at that), walk move and play, yoga nidra, writing, and learning new skills (this summer it’s chess and the ukulele). Oh, and find community and purpose, I’m still working that bit out. 

The question came up as to whether the pain is still noticable when I’m fully engaged in whatever it is I’m doing…and the answer is no. I don’t notice any sharp aches or twinges in my hip or back. My leg doesn’t give out from under me. I’m walking, hiking, kayaking, biking, and driving just fine. Mostly. Which tells me it’s in part a habit, a hold-over from a few stressful and shitty years. Much like how our faces flush in anger, my lack of flexibility in my back and hips is unconscious and therefore, if I pay attention, there’s a potential to change that in what I do and how. I believe this to be true, again, from my own experiences. This isn’t to say that the damage of arthritis isn’t real but there’s hope for me as I get older. I remember how at 39, my knees were totally fucked up, going up stairs killed me, hurt like a bugger, and after seeing doctors, MRIs, physical therapy, those professionals told me it was arthritis and knee replacements would be needed. Instead, I stopped landscaping. My knees recovered but for a few aches. Lifestyle changes made the difference. I keep this in mind and keep reading and researching. What can I do to help myself? 

I find, a year after the almost-scheduled hip surgery, that the pain is more of a discomfort. A tight thigh muscle doesn’t release when I stand up, that’s the stiffness certain friends comment upon, how I can’t stand up straight after sitting a while. For the moment at least, when I’m taking care of myself, the tightness lasts perhaps 5 seconds on average. That’s all. Some days, after driving a few hours, it might take 10 or 15 seconds for my leg and hip to straighten and release. I have a variety of things to do that relax it, from jogging for a few seconds to a random dance next to my van. Silly, funny, and it works. I’ve gone from being occasionally bedridden, doped up on prescriptions and medical marijuana, in a pissy mood and screaming pain after driving for more than an hour, to this, five seconds of a tight muscle and bit of salsa or merengue to loosen up. 

Like I said, something had to change and it has. I have. 

But how? 

The tools I’ve experimented with include sleep, yoga, hydration, energy and movement, strength training, supplements, attitude and meditation, as well as cold plunges and hot springs and of course, food. One by one, I tried these elements, noting what happened, remembering what changed so that I can come back to them as and when suits. All are within reach most days, at least for this summer. When I go back to New Mexico or England, I’ll have to work out how to do whatever I need without being rigid about it and to take care of my daily practices without being a victim or a preacher. (Don’t worry, if I come over and you make me dinner  I’ll eat everything but oysters and say thank you and mean it. These are just my preferences, flexible to the context, and simply my choices, you know?) 

Sleep. It’s always been a hard one for me. I toss and turn, legs all over the place, mind running. For the last nine months or so, I’ve been going to bed, well, lying down, around nine because it takes a few hours before I fall asleep. If I’m with friends, chatting and hanging out, that’s an added stimulus and so my ability to fall asleep is triggered and it’s more like midnight or two am before the sleep fairies drag me down. It’s a choice now, knowing the consequences of later evenings and less sleep. 

You’re not as likely to find me chatty and full of energy in the evenings, mornings are better. The circadian cycles of sleep in the dark and wake to the sunrise suits me, emotionally and physically, and science backs it up. ? (If you have a chance listen to Professor Russell Foster on the Feel Better, Live More podcast.) 

Once inside, quiet, alone but for my pup, I listen to talks and meditations, mostly I use Insight Timer (an app) or download podcasts by people like Tara Brach, a Buddhist teacher and meditation guide as well as Roshi Joan Halifax from Upaya in Santa Fe, a phenomenal mind and wonderful Zen teacher. After doing a combination of guided meditations, more movement during the day, eating earlier in the evening, my sleep routine is settling and that alone helps my mood and energy. No more need for the pills and beers to knock me out. 

By last December, I’d decided it was time to also deal with how stiff and awkward I was becoming in my body. After decades as a landscaper, outdoors, doing stuff for fun and work, always moving, I’d slowed down. The limp had become ingrained and I still thought that pain held me back.

Yoga. I turned to yoga, something I’d loved in my late thirties and early forties. Not only did I start an almost daily yoga practice, using Yoga with Adrienne, I went a step further. Liking to know the back story of all that I learn, I signed up for a yoga teacher training. I can’t say I liked all the courses but hey ho, who does? It did really help me understand the underlying physicality of stretching, of building strength, stability and yes, getting much more flexible.  The Huberman lab (episode 76) goes into detail about improving flexibility, offering you other choices, the timing of exercise, the effects on our neurological and emotional selves. Anyway, after only a month, my hips unlocked, I could walk further, play more. I’ve learnt so much about balance, putting together routines to suit my need that day or week and it’s become a habit, one I turn to. I’m now a certified hatha yoga teacher, accredited by the Yoga Alliance, another nice bit of experience for me. If you have any questions, let me know. 

Whilst doing the yoga courses over winter, I still struggled with pain in my groin especially after driving any distance, which is the only kind of driving I do. After more poking around online, I figured out it was my psoas. How do we release that? Well, another bunch of research lead me to this simple remedy: An oversized tennis ball. Lying on the floor or on a bed, place the ball near your hip bones and belly button. Lay down with your own body weight to hold you over the ball, allow your muscles to relax, just take it slowly, move the ball around after 30 seconds in each new place, keep trying to feel your muscles relax. I did this daily for say, five minutes and after three or four days, the psoas pain just went away. It even helped with the limp and hip pain. I remember standing up, that first time, and realizing that I could straighten my left leg, no tightness, no pain, it was a bloody miracle. A tennis ball. One of the dog’s. Better than surgery. 

Hydration. Drinking water, yeah yeah, we all think we drink enough but do we? Do you keep track of how much is water and how much is tea, coffee, seltzers or booze? One podcast that was a DEEP dive into water came from the Huberman Lab, it was a bit much for me but he does a great job of taking all the international research and findings and then translating them for us non-science folk. He convinced me that simply drinking 64 oz of water a day would give me energy, clean out my body and brain of toxins much like an internal shower, and rejuvenate me from the inside out. I have two 32 oz insulated growlers from a microbrewery I’m using now, easier to fill them and at the end of the day know if I hit my goal. Last week, for various reasons, I’d been in a funk, too much beer, coffee, crap food, no movement etc, you know, the old me…and I’d had enough. I filled the water bottles, added lime and salt, and made it more of a conscious effort to drink both. My head ached for a day of no coffee or beer (my choice to keep the hydration healthier) but then, yep, my energy came back. 

The more energy I have, the more I move. 

And the more I play. 

Talking of energy, Dr Mark Hyman is another source of inspiration. Without going into a review of his latest book, Young Forever, the information and science offered to explain his recommendations really brought about the next level in taking care of myself. I saw the results with a week of making some relatively small adjustments, and now I feel even better after a couple of months. His focus, or one of them, is on matching our life span with our health span by which I mean, as we grow older in years, there is much we can do to keep our bodies young, fit, energized, and healthy. He talked about the Blue Zones, the areas in the world where locals live long and physically healthy lives, being active into their late nineties and beyond, eating veggie rich meals with locally raised meats and cheeses, thriving within a community, feeling a life’s purpose, and more…the perfect storm for health and happiness. 

All good stuff, even a chat bot can tell us that. Yet, again, how often do we act on these stories and experiment on ourselves? I did, I am doing another experiment on myself since moving to Colorado in May. 

I’ll continue in Part Two with information on movement, food, and more good stuff. Stay tuned!