Keep Moving Or You Die
I had to get busy
He said it with a straight face. “Keep moving or you die”. I was in excruciating pain while he manipulated the compression fracture in my neck. Previous treatment failures left me with the turning radius of a scarecrow. This guy was determined though. Jack’s Australian accent boomed as he slowly twisted and pushed my pain boundaries. “Stick with me and we’ll free you up, you old dog”.
This old dog was mildly amused while grimacing with pain. The injury was not life-threatening, but it altered my lifestyle for the best part of a year.
Hope had been elusive, but I was ecstatic when this therapeutic magician restored full movement. I was grateful but inquisitive at my final session. Should I take it easy? Should I avoid impact exercises? He answered my questions with a question.
“What did you do before?” “Running, weights, tennis”, I replied.
“Do ‘em all. Test yourself gradually. If something barks at you, back off. Pain‘s your guide and it will set the boundaries. Don’t stop moving. If you stop moving you die.” Then he resumed the pain festival, twisting and turning. He was still smiling while tormenting me. Thanks, mate.
Get Moving
Immediately I jumped into self-rehab, while mentally referencing a new mantra. Push yourself and gradually increase intensity. Pain is your boundary. I tried distance running, but the knees were not impressed. I compromised with brisk walking, interspersed with three-quarter sprints. I had to extend the time invested, but it worked. There was no pain and the heart was strengthened.
Weight training was good as long as I used sensible movements and didn’t go for heavyweight loads. Slowly but surely, muscle tone returned.
Tennis was back after a long break. It was key to restoring fitness and mental health. My early stroke form was crap, but it was so much fun, and I needed fun at this stage.
Miracle man had also introduced some stretches and worked on my posture. It worked beautifully. On days when fitness is good and posture is right, these are the best of times. All falls into place. Simply moving across the earth is so much more fluid and injuries are reduced.
2021
Twenty years have passed since the accident, and I’ve been an obedient old dog. I keep moving. I push hard, sometimes too hard, and that can cause injuries.
The injuries are not serious, but they‘ve kept me balanced. Balance is the key. Work hard while staying on the happy side of pain. Endurance and strength follow.
Pushing too hard exemplifies the Law of Diminishing Return. The resulting injuries lead to increased weight and body fat. That’s how I learned to downshift ahead of the pain boundary. This is the key to sustained fitness.
I’ve always had more cardio focus. I find it to be the best way to strengthen the heart, which is easily the body’s most important muscle. It’s led to a lower resting heart rate. That means better heart and lung efficiency. A strong heart doesn’t have to beat as often to circulate oxygen-rich blood throughout the body.
I’ve heard weight training aficionados lament that cardio is for losers, and encourage complete weight training programs. They say that if you want to burn fat, don’t do cardio. I say this is misdirected passion.
Let’s put it this way. I could put complete focus on weights, get ripped and look like young Arnie Schwarzenegger, but still have a weak heart. That would be the recipe for all kinds of physical issues. A strong, efficient heart cures many ills. It’s a tenet of healthy living.
Pandemic Fitness
In the early days of the pandemic, I foolishly decided to resurrect distance running into my mix, after a 20-year hiatus. I lost a couple of kilograms and reduced body fat. My resting heart rate went from 62 beats per minute to a low of 50. My heart was a strong, pumping machine, but this success was fool’s gold.
Forty kilometers of road pounding per week were exacting a toll. Tight hamstrings politely warned that a major tear was on the horizon. Ankle pain returned as a reminder of old Achilles issues. And a back that has never let me down was barking loudly. “It’s degenerative, not unusual for your age”, said the local GP. “Aiyo” was my response. In this context, Aiyo is Singlish (Singaporean English slang) for ‘bullshit’.
It’s not what I wanted to hear. There is much tennis to play and much earth to be explored. No way. To hell with the ageing diagnosis.
My take was this. Age may slow the healing process, but it ain’t going to sideline this old dog. I just had to rediscover the balance, so once again I ditched the distance runs. A distant, but not forgotten voice whispered, pain is your boundary, old dog.
It was so, so difficult for me to play taps on distance running, but it was time. I always loved the feeling, the endorphin rush during and after the final 250- meter kick. You just don’t get that with walking. But this was it for me. The fallout from the pounding is just not worth it.
The bright side is that there are so many other ways to achieve the cardio effect. Jack taught me not to give in, but to adjust. There’s more than one way to bake a cake, and distance running is not one for me.
Walk briskly, do step class, play a sport, lift weights, do push-ups. All of these will work without crossing the pain boundary. Do one, do all, but keep moving.
I know that the title of this story sounds like clickbait, but it’s real to me. The old me would have died without Jack’s treatment and life lessons. That old me was a physical person, and thankfully I remain so.
Keep moving. Push, but remember that pain is your boundary. Get to know your body so you can downshift ahead of the boundary.
Author’s Note: Anyone embarking on a program of exercise should first seek advice from a medical practitioner.
