A Good Hurt

No pain, no maintain: physical and emotional challenges are key to longevity wellbeing

My husband, Andrea, has been a long-distance trail runner for several decades, from weekly runs with buddies to grueling mountain events. Some years, when he hasn’t entered a race, he has worked the aid stations assisting runners, offering hydration and tending to blisters. Recently, he was asked by an event organizer to be a “sweeper”—the runner who sweeps the course for stragglers and brings them safely in. He is a natural endurance runner who can reasonably and easily up and run 10-12 miles even during one of his not-so-consistent periods…which is now. But he realizes it’s getting harder to do that spontaneously in his sixth decade.

To prepare, we decided that a medium hike was in order (I’m not a runner—never have been, never will be) on one of our favorite nearby trails. Situated in the hills above acres of gardens, it’s a moderately steep hike with a 918-foot elevation gain. We do it 3-4 times a month, but oddly, it never seems to get easier! This time, to build the mileage and get (as Andrea says) more footfalls, we made it longer, extending the usual 4.0 miles to 5.6.

Given that we walk several miles most days and are (mostly) regular hikers, I consider myself in fairly decent shape. Although we hadn’t tackled the longer version of the route in a handful of months, I felt strong when we finished, even though heat and humidity —always my Achilles heel—plagued me throughout the hike. Honestly, I was being a real baby—slagging more than usual and complaining even louder. 

Once back home, with all the whining out of my system, I washed up and felt totally fine, no worse for the wear, and got on with the day. So I was completely surprised the next morning when I stepped out of bed and felt a long-forgotten twinge of soreness in my glutes. Wait a minute. What on earth?! Me? Sore? From a simple, run-of-the-mill hike?! 

It wasn’t severe pain, not the oh-gosh-I-can-barely-walk type of soreness, but nonetheless, it was enough to make me think and assess. I used to be able to do that particular hike with no residual muscle soreness in the least. I was quietly incensed and then mildly disappointed in myself. This is not good news. Or maybe it is. 

Ironically, just a couple of weeks ago, I wrote about how subjects in a rebounding study saw significant improvement at a particular month marker, but if they didn’t maintain the rebounding schedule, the improvements started to evaporate. I thought to myself, “Duh! Of course, you must keep doing the particular activity to maintain a certain level!” I think I was even shaking my head in disbelief that the obvious would need to be stated.

Yet here I was, coasting with similar lackadaisical thinking. This mini wake-up was just the shot I needed to refresh my thinking and recall that the only constant in life is change; plateauing is a regressive misnomer.

Nothing stays the same
Nature is dynamic. It is in a constant state of change, however imperceivable; the natural state of being is not idle—it either progresses or regresses. Have you ever noticed that once silver is polished, it almost immediately starts to tarnish? A little work will bring the luster back, but it’s definitely an endless cycle.

So, too, is health, our muscles in particular. We start to lose muscle mass in our 30s and 40s, losing between 3% and 5% each decade, which eventually leads to sarcopenia—the precursor to many age-related ailments and early death. With every passing day, I’m becoming increasingly fervent about strength being the wellspring for aging well because I see in my own life how it is the foundation for daily living.

While strength training mitigates the loss, it doesn’t prevent natural regression, as my recent hiking experience not so subtly reminded me. I clearly wasn’t doing enough to counteract the inevitable, and I got the message loud and clear: I need to up my strength game.

Not that we need to be sore after every workout, but the occasional muscle soreness is essential for growth. When muscles are stressed to the point of micro-tears, they rebuild and heal stronger. As we age, our muscles need to grow to maintain the status quo and offset the decline—simply sustaining doesn’t cut it.

Emotional growing pains
Our physical strength isn’t the only thing that declines; I’ve noticed with myself and others that emotional strength starts to wane with age. I saw this in my mom, who became more fearful and reticent with age, and it took me by surprise. I had always known her to be strong-willed and an unstoppable self-starter, so it was disconcerting to see those characteristics replaced with hesitancy and trepidation. It was even more disconcerting to start to see a glimmer of those tendencies in myself.

Andrea and I are creatures of habit, and as such, we are compulsive fixtures at church. We sit in the same pew, at the same time, for 8:00 AM Sunday Mass. We are in the 5th row from the front, far right-hand side, and typically a 7:40 AM arrival time. Because of this metronome-like reliability, the Sacristan started asking us to bring the gifts to the altar about four months ago. This honor is bestowed on different parishioners, typically couples or families, and is an integral part of the Mass. 

To paint the picture for you, this is a rather large church, considered one of the most beautiful in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. It is a stunning blend of Byzantine and Romanesque architecture with inlaid terrazzo marble floors and soaring wood-trestle ceilings. The crystal wine carafe and gold ciborium (which houses the unconsecrated hosts) sit on a small wooden table halfway between the back doors and the sacristy at the front of the church.

Well, the first time he asked us, my stomach immediately tied into painful knots. Oh, no! My. Gosh. Walking down that polished, endless center aisle, all eyes on us. Argh. What if I trip for some bizarre, unforeseen reason, or my legs simply give out from under me, or I forget to breathe and faint straight away? At least Andrea is by my side, and he will pick me up.

The first time came and went, and thankfully, I was still breathing (and standing) as we returned to our seats. I completed the task without embarrassing myself (or my husband). The second time was easier. Now, we are old pros, and I don’t have even the slightest pang in my stomach if and when the gentleman taps us for service. 

Give up or buck up
It occurred to me that these two examples could be the turning point for some people. This is too painful. It must be because I’m old. I need to pull back on what I’m doing… But those thoughts didn’t occur to me because I knew from experience that if I pushed through, my physical and emotional muscles would bounce back stronger and more resilient.

Nevertheless, the knotted stomach in church and twinging post-hike glutes were not-so-subtle reminders that complacency is a growth thief and one of the most challenging aspects of human nature. There are no two ways about it: in order to counterbalance the natural backslide of life, I’ve got to grow…and I had become complacent.

I am now making a concerted effort to lift heavier weights and get back on our more extended hiking schedule. As difficult as it is, I’m likewise attempting to welcome opportunities that put me in new social situations… which is the more challenging and brutal of the two but equally necessary to live well, age great.

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