I'm doing the Oxfam Trailwalker 100km walk in August... that's the plan, anyway (snort!). I'm already limping and we're only up to 17km. The amount of puffing going on as we trudge up hills and the amount of knee grinding setting our teeth on edge as we walk down is ridiculous. Forty is not the new thirty... not even close. Forty is trailing so far behind thirty on the trail we're worried Forty won't even make it.
I've got the whole back thing to consider these days, that combined with the mild scoliosis I was presumably born with and the crazy growing-feet thing that pregnancy seems to do to us all... well, it's just as well my mate Tracey is a podiatrist. She's bandying youthful sounding terms like 'plantar fasciitis' and 'bursitis' around.
"I feel like I'm seventy," I moan. "Soon I'll be shopping for my shoes at the Chemist."
Trace just looked at me. It wasn't an encouraging look.
So, I call LOML up after my visit and I say, "I'm getting orthotics for my runners."
"Well, at least it might help your limp," he says cheerfully.
"They're going to be the soft kind, so they don't flare up my psoriasis too much," I add.
"Orthotics, psoriasis... man, I am living the dream. Wanna get lucky when I get home?"
"I haven't got the orthotics yet," I warn him. "So I won't be able to wear them."
"At least they won't come between me and your darling psoriasis, my dove."
Yep, it's on for young and mainly old at my place...
Anything making you feel like a geriatric these days?