Starting to feel normal again?

Dealing with injuries is wretched. Everyone knows that the sensible thing to do is take it slowly, pay attention to medical advice, don't to anything before you're sure it's safe, etc. etc. ... and it's very very boring.

Last week I went to my over-55s ballet class (which is brilliant, by the way). One of the dancers - a very good one - was recovering from major surgery and had been told not to do violent exercise for - can't remember how long, but the time period was a few days away from elapsing. She said she was sure it would be OK, and danced, beautifully and energetically, and seemed to be fine.

BUT I DON'T THINK THIS IS SENSIBLE.

For a couple of reasons:

If you ignore advice, you're an idiot and only yourself to blame if something goes wrong. This is with the proviso that you trusted the person giving you the advice in the first place. If you didn't, it makes much more sense to get advice from a (reliable) second source rather than drift ahead on the basis that things will probably be OK.

Once you get to anything like my age, everybody knows that it takes longer to heal. Some doctors, some nurses, use standing healing times for things like breaks and sprains, and this doesn't always work. So leaving a bit more time to recover probably makes sense and will probably do not harm.

Oh, but it's depressing not being able to get outside and run about. I take some inspiration from an oldish guy who went to a gym I used to go to, and who was waiting for a hip replacement. Interminably, as it seemed. He was in quite a lot of pain and getting increasingly disabled, but he kept turning up and doing upper body exercises. Said it wasn't great but it made him feel better than not doing it.

What a hero.

On a different subject, I had a great run this morning. Very slow, not very long, grey skies, a bit of rain, beautiful countryside. Then home for a fried egg on toast and plenty of coffee. You can't beat that!

Blogging again!

It's been a weird year. Moving house wasweird enough, breaking the fifth metatarsal on my left foot made it a good deal too peculiar. And I wasn't doing anything stupid, just walking downstairs.

Of course there were lessons to be learnt, one of which is don't walk round to A&E with a broken bone in your foot. It did hurt. Another is that having a broken bone is actually surprisingly tiring and you need rest and nice food.

But I turned 70 at the end of last year, which is why the new title for my blog. I'm inordinately proud of being properly officially old, and am now waiting for maturity to set in.

But enough of this. Right now I'm just trying out my latest blog and latest title. I'll get round to writing something sensible on keeping fit tomorrow morning, after the Parkrun. 5k, 9 a.m. Nice course. Trying to find a valid excuse for skyving off, but don't seem to be able to. Oh well.