I've just finished listening to a podcast, hosted by Mel Robbins, who's known across generational ages for her relatable and implentable self-help approaches to the challenges of daily life. It was my daughter who introduced me to Robbins' perspectives and tactics for self-improvement. All strong reminders of what we really know about ourselves and the permission to be who we are. And all great wake-up calls. But occasioally, there's one that is transformative.
Robbins' guest on this occasion was Vonda Wright, an orthopedic surgeon whose specialty is sports medicine and is considered an expert on mobility, aging, and longevity. The timing of this particular podcast coincided with me receiving my Medicare card, affirming that I've now reached that all encompassing age bracket of
65 and over and realizing there's no
next category other than
deceased.
It got me questioning my own physicality.
At 65, I consider myself in good physical condition and haven been athletically inclined all my life, just recently having retired from competitive tennis and taking up pickleball and golf. I routinely walk on a treadmill and recently purchased an electric bike. I am conscious of what I eat and am a low carb consumer. And yet, I still have rolls in my stomach, stiffness in my back, and cramping in my legs. On top of that, my scale remains stagnant, and my figure still requires Spanx. Which all begs the question,
what the f#*k? My methods use to work.
Throughout our adult lives, we have been battling the aging process, consciously or not, and invariably redefining our physical aspirations. Where it was once desireable to be the next Twiggy, it's now aspirational to be able to move without pain. Where we once easily navigated our multi-level homes, it's now aspirational to be able to
climb the stairs from one level to another without debating its necessity. And where we once were able to dance the night away, it's now aspirational to get from the bed to the bathroom with limited assistance.
Truth be told, it was never Twiggy that I was seeking, but rather the monthly delivery of the Charles Chips chocolate chip cookies that came in the yellow metal container, or that third slice of pizza oozing with cheese, or even a second glass of a full-bodied Cabernet with dinner. I work-out to lessen the impact of indulgence. Indulgence, though, as I have come to learn, isn't the only cuprit.
I have out-aged my workouts.
Apparently, my workouts of yesteryears fail to recognize my age. Spinnng on a bike or walking on a treadmill is not intense enough to stimulate real change for women over 50. While I've been clocking miles on the treadmill, my midsection has enjoyed the ride but not the impact. More surprisingly, I was recently diagnosed with osteopenia, below average bone density. Go figure, no pun intended.
Just when we thought we finally reached an age and mentality where less is more, we need more.
Our bones may support us, and our muscles may allow us to move, but it's estrogen, as I have learned, that influences our muscle mass, its strength, its repairability, and its metabolism. As we age, muscle mass naturally decreases after the age of 30, but for women, the rate of decline increases even further after menopause due to our loss of estrogen.
With a natural decline of estrogen and muscle mass, we are at a higher risk of our bones becoming weak and brittle making it more challenging for us to perform daily routines such as walking our dogs, getting in and out of our cars, climbing stairs, carrying groceries, or worse yet, our grandchildren. Then we start strategizing that if we let our dogs out back, we can reduce the number of walks, or decide that at this moment, whatever seemed urgent to retrieve upstairs can now wait, or finding yourself waiting until someone can take you to the store or doctor.
Moreover, it's estrogen that once distributed our body fat with shapely purpose, to our hips, breasts and butts. Its demise and associated negative impact on our muscle mass has slowed our metabolism, resulting with body fat to be callously abandoned in our bellies.
The less impact we put on our bones, the less able we become. It's a
use it or lose it vicious cycle. What was once commonplace becomes a chore. What use to be routine becomes challenging. Where we once were independent, we are now relying on others. Our once anxious anticipation is now anxious apprehension. We become fearful of losing our balance, too panicked to try, and then too frail to perform.
But that's not who we are ladies, nor should we accept that as our destiny. "
With approximately 600 bones in our bodie, we are still designed to move", says Wright, "
no matter the age. We do not have to be the victim of the passage of time and become frail, "Wright continues, or accept our belly fat, I would add. "Movement", she preaches, "is our medicine."
We can't help the fact that we age, but, says Wright, "we can help the aging process."
Now, more than ever, we must move with purpose.
Strength training, also known as resistant training, is our spoonful of medicine, our purpose. It requires our muscles to contract, nudging our bones into action. This, according to
Wright, has been shown to slow down the aging process, no matter the age, all of which impacts our mobility, our fraility, and our independence. If done consistently, whether you're 50, 75 or 95, our bones react to impact by increasing our muscle mass and our metabiolism, circumventing both our estrogen deficiency and the vicious cycle of aging.
At its core, strength training focuses on stimulating our muscles with weight-bearing exercises, be it dumbbells, machines, resistant bands or through our own body weight. Lunges and squats are just as resistant as barbells and circuit machines.
But, as with much of life, if we don't feel it, it won't have an impact. Short of straining, grunting, holding your breath, shaking or regurgitating, we need to feel fatigued by the final rep, suggests Wright, without impacting form or risking injury, all dependent on one's starting level of fitness. As with any new form of exercise, it's highly advisable to seek professional advice rather than undertaking a trial-and-error approach, because, ladies, we are building for longevity and independency.
We may not be able to turn back time, but we can slow down the time we have. "Muscles", says Wright, "are nature's Spanx", and I'd much prefer to wear those than the ones in my drawer.
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