Even though I feel good most of the time, and am probably as athletic for my age as I’ve ever been, every now and then I’m reminded that I’m less than 2 1/2 years from turning 50.
For instance, a couple weeks ago after my exercise class when one of my classmates were doing box jumps, and I piled them 39 inches high.
I got my feet down, but couldn’t get my hips up to land the jump, so I fell, landing on my side and breaking the rest of the fall with my hand.
There didn’t appear to be any serious damage at the time, except to my pride, but for the next few days I had pain in my lower back. (By the way, the other guy realized partway through his jump that he wasn’t going to make it, so he bailed out.)
It was a little odd, given that I haven’t had issues in a while and landed on my side, anyway, but I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to go to the doctor and explain what happened.
The good news — other than the pain going away — is that if I ever do nail 39 inches, I’ll only be a few inches short of a 27-year-old, world-class athlete.
The bad news is that I am neither of those things.
I was scrolling through Tumblr, just because, and other than a clever post from Overheard in the Newsroom, it wasn’t especially interesting … other than the ads.
I wasn’t on very long, but it was long enough to see five ads, and four of them were the same.
And the fifth was about myeloma.
At least Doctor Google makes you search for what might be wrong with you. Doctor Tumblr just comes right out and says “You’re old enough that you need to worry about your prostate.” (I’m not quite sure why Suzi apparently sees the same ads.)
But you know what? I looked. I appear to be out of danger.
And I got a notice from my doctor that I’m due for an annual physical.
Is someone trying to tell me something?
The dude in this illustration by Mohamed Hassan on Pixabay looks kind of nervous. I hope it’s not bad news.