For the Time Being: Reflections of Life and Aging. Fit for Old Age?
As old age hurtles towards us, we need a balance between an idealistic and a fatalistic approach to health and fitness
What is ‘fit’?
In my introductory article I set out my thoughts on how I want to approach impending old age: through an interactive, reflective journal. When I think about growing old, when I peer into the long tunnel that has no light at the end of it, it is often in the context of how healthy that journey might be. If you are heading towards the autumn, or the winter, of your life, you have probably asked yourself the same questions I am asking myself. Am I fit for old age? What does that even mean? How much control over how I age do I actually have? Have I already sacrificed some of that control by the life choices I have made so far? We know that our life story affects us physically, mentally and emotionally, and that these effects have an impact on how we age. Some of this is outside our control: we don’t choose our genes, for example, and we certainly don’t choose to get ill. Yet every day we make life choices that have a greater or lesser degree of risk attached to them. We may not choose cancer, but we are constantly reminded that if we smoke, or are obese, if we don’t exercise, if we fail to eat our five-a-day, it is more likely to choose us. We have access to a seemingly endless stream of advice about how to be healthy throughout our life, and stay fit and well as we age. I have not always found it comfortable reading, not because I have led a particularly unhealthy life but because, in common with many, I have rarely been satisfied with my body shape and have wrestled with my conscience for years, riddled with guilt about acts of commission and omission around eating and exercise. In this and subsequent articles, I want to tell you about the reflective journey I am making towards a more peaceful existence with my own body. How I am learning what health goals matter to me as I age, how I might achieve them and how I plan to maintain them in old age.
First: a confession. I would like to go back to being 30 to avoid some of the mistakes I made. I am not talking about big life choices; they are what they are and they were mostly as good as living without the benefit of hindsight can make them. No, I am talking about diet and exercise. If I have one regret in life it is that I am two dress sizes bigger and a whole lot less supple than I used to be, and would like to be. If only I had adopted less of a devil-may-care attitude on occasions over the decades! Too late for me, but if you are reading this in your 40s and 50s, you may want to consider taking heed. Things aren’t all bad, though, as I hope to point out in this article.
Next, some context. As a young woman I had never considered ‘fitness’. It wasn’t actually much of a thing in the ’60s and ’70s. The gym industry was in its infancy in the ’80s, when I was already in my 30s. People who jogged in the street were considered oddballs. There were no heart rate monitors or fitness trackers, and we only found out about our blood pressure at ante-natal clinic. Plenty of people I knew played games — squash, badminton, tennis — but these were never my thing. Does this mean I was unfit? It is hard to say for sure, but I never felt it. Without a car, I walked miles every day. As a young teacher, I could trot up the 88 stairs (yes, really!) to my classroom and still have breath to yell at the kids when I got there. In the baby and toddler era I was on my feet most of the day, exhausted by bed time, but still more than capable of getting up and doing it all again the next day. And I have been an enthusiastic, hands-on gardener all of my adult life. But have I been fit?
It seems to me that this a question we started to ask ourselves only as our lifestyle threatened to make us unfit. Social and economic changes since the 1980s (out of town shopping centres are a good example) have meant that we walk less, drive more and eat out more, and a globalised economy has led not only to the burgeoning of fast food chains but also, ironically, to the growth of a huge health and fitness industry, the success of which relies on our believing that we need them, because we are not fit.
Once I start to think like this, I begin to wonder just how far the goalposts around what we regard as fitness have changed. Is there a difference between ‘fit for life’ and ‘fit for the gym’? Should I start thinking about what being ‘fit for life in old age’ might look and feel like? I need to address the tension I often feel between making the effort to be ‘fit’, and giving in to the fatalist ‘does-it-matter-now-I’m-old?’ approach.
The fatalist-idealist continuum
To illustrate this dilemma, I want to share with you something from my experience at work. In my teacher training years, I asked students to keep a reflective diary, one of the early entries of which was to record their thoughts following observation of the classes they would be teaching during their school practice. This gave their tutors much insight into how they were thinking and feeling, so that we could personalise the support they needed. I observed that most students, when confronted with problems in the classroom, responded in ways that placed them somewhere along a continuum between idealism and fatalism. At the extreme end of idealism, for example, was Marie. Faced with a class of 11-year olds with poor literacy skills, she assumed that they simply hadn’t been taught well, and that she would change all that by introducing more effective pedagogic methods. At the extreme fatalist end, John, when observing a ‘challenging’ class, wrote: “I can’t see what I’ll be able to do with this lot”. In the early stages of their training, neither had sufficient knowledge and understanding to see beyond what was immediately obvious to them. As I steered them towards gaining the appropriate professional knowledge, both students came to a more realistic assessment of the situation. Marie took on board the special educational needs of her students and identified teaching strategies and resources to ensure realistic pupil progression. John learned about the power of high expectations in relation to classroom management, and took on board some strategies for motivation. Is there a lesson here for my own approach to my ‘fit for old age’ plan?
On reflection, I can detect a personal, internal struggle between idealism and fatalism. I am idealistic, because I still aspire to a body that is 25 pounds lighter than the one I currently inhabit. Fatalistic, because I am frequently tempted to believe that as I have slipped relatively unscathed into my eighth decade, maybe I should just start wearing trousers with an elasticated waist. The thing is, though, I know that it isn’t all about body image, but about general health and fitness. A thickened midriff might not bother me so much these days, but I am not ready to slip, however imperceptibly, into unfit old woman mode. Time to reflect:
- What do I want to be fit for?
- What do I know about my health, right now?
- What can I expect of my body in, say, the next 10 years?
Towards a realistic goal
The first question is easy enough to answer. I want to look forward to doing jobs in the garden and not see them as burdensome. I want to run around with my grandchildren, and still enjoy their bath time afterwards. I want to walk the South Bank with my son and daughter-in-law, or visit an art gallery, and then relish my evening meal. I want to enjoy a shopping trip with my girlfriends. In other words, I want to be fit for the life I lead. I make a quick assessment of the status quo, and come to the conclusion that, for the time being at least, I can do these things. Ok, so gardening is much harder, every job takes longer and a leisurely post- hoticultural bath no longer soaks away the soreness in my joints. Mr C and I collapse in a heap of exhausted relief when we’ve waved the grandchildren goodbye. But that aside, my energy levels hardly ever hold me back and, most importantly, I enjoy everything I do. But what about the future? Is it idealistic to think that this can last?
To answer my second question, I need to arm myself with some facts, because I know that, as was the case with my students, it is only from a well-informed position that I will be able to move to a realistic one. I visit my GP for a well-woman test. I get my ‘numbers’: cholesterol, systolic blood pressure, body mass index (BMI). She points me in the direction of the NHS Qrisk. You key in your age, sex, whether you have ever smoked (I haven’t) and your basic health numbers. You press the return button and up pops your risk of having a heart attack or stroke in the next 10 years. Mine is 6.1%. This means that for every 100 people with my exact profile, only 6 (ish) will have a heart attack or stroke in the next decade. I understand that this is statistical. The facts about the population are probably accurate, but I know that there is no guarantee about what will happen to me. It is a risk assessment, not a crystal ball. Nonetheless, I feel encouraged by the low risk.
Next, I buy a fitness monitor. I know that as a measure of heart rate and general fitness they are a pretty blunt instrument, but I feel encouraged by what I learn from the weekly stats.We live at the top of quite a steep road, so a circular walk from my front door entails a somewhat hilly experience. I walk briskly enough to get in at least 150 minutes of ‘intense activity’ every week, and my daily walk consistently records 10 ‘floors’, one floor being the equivalent of trotting up two flights of stairs in quick succession. What is more, my hips hurt only a little bit. Realistically, then, I appear to be in pretty good shape (as long as I avoid wearing anything too clingy). On to my third question: what can I expect of my body as I brush up against my ninth decade?
I realise that I have a very clear goal in mind. To celebrate my 70th birthday, my son and daughter-in-law took us to Provence for 10 days. The terrain was very hilly, but I took it, literally, in my stride, relishing the daily 15-minute walk down to the local bakery and the 20-minute uphill walk back. I want to be able to make that trip on my 80th birthday. I will concede a slower pace, but my aim over the next nine years is to keep up the hill walks in order not to feel daunted by the prospect of bringing in the breakfast croissants to the villa we shall rent in Bormes-les-Mimosas. A realistic goal? Only time will tell. But if that wonderful thought doesn’t keep me alive, and fit for the life I want to lead, nothing will.
In future articles on the theme of ‘fit for old age’ I aim to explore my changing relationship with food, and discuss some of the research around aging well. Your thoughts and experiences will be most welcome!
