Mount Fuji and Grey Hair

“How old are you?” The bike expert was putting a new battery into my cyclecomputer. How old am I? I wasn’t sure. I have had difficulty knowing how old I am. I’m going to retire next year at 63. On my birthday in September, I’ll be 62. I must be 61. 61 I told him.

“How much do you weigh?” I didn’t know that answer either. When was the last time I was on a scale? He must have taken my pause as a reluctance to reveal my weight. Before he could finish his explanation of why he needed my weight I made a guess and gave him a number.

On my bike ride home, I wondered, “If I didn’t color my hair, would that help me remember my age?” I don’t feel 61. If my hair was in its natural state, it would be completely silver or white. Maybe I’d look more my age. That is exactly why I have been coloring my hair for years in the first place. I didn’t want my children to have an old mother. I figured I’d wait until after they graduated from high school to go natural. Then the pandemic came. Now seems like a perfectly good time to work with all those feelings that grey hair will bring.

Sitting in the salon chair, I could see a family resemblance reflected in the mirror. I never wanted my mother or Aunt Annie to slide in and out of my face. With grey hair that might be exactly what I get.

Hiking up the ski hill, I imagined that our trip to Japan and our climb up Mount Fuji this coming July was still on. That trip may or may not happen. Like the rest of the world with this pandemic, my family and I are on a wait and see. Laboring for breath walking up the steep incline felt great. My entire body was committed to reaching the top. Once there I was graced with the Minneapolis skyline. I will continue to climb and descend regardless of COVID-19. Grey hair will certainly happen.

I Thought I Was Doing What I Was Supposed to be Doing

“That’s the problem,” he said. I looked down at my legs. I was sitting on a physical therapy table with my legs outstretched on the tabletop. I couldn’t see what he could see. He pointed to the concave shape of my inner thigh. “Your leg has atrophied.”

What?!? Atrophy might describe an old lady … maybe someone who’s in her late 80’s and immobile.  Not me! When I thought that I could speak without crying, I interrupted him with questions. “Is my other leg atrophied?” Yes, he said. Later that evening I would sob with Jody.

How could that be? Exercise has been a priority for me and after getting my knees replaced, I continued to exercise at least 5 days a week, whether it be aqua pool jogging, biking, or Pilates reformer. During my workday I piled on steps from walking the plant floor.

Over a month ago, I had graduated from physical therapy following my last knee replacement. What brought me back to the doctor was a constant pain where my IT band ended near the knee. My knees were terrific, but this new pain was causing me to limp.

What I learned is that all the exercising that I was doing was great, but my quads needed strengthening. If my quads were stronger, then the IT band wouldn’t have to work so hard. I needed to get my quads to fire.

I was introduced to Blood Flow Restriction Therapy. The physical therapist put a band similar to a blood pressure cuff on my upper thigh and pumped it up. This stopped the blood from flowing into my leg. I then did straight leg raises, quads over roll, and knee extensions. What this did was engage my quad muscles.

After two sessions with blood flow restriction therapy I was no longer feeling any pain.

I recently graduated from physical therapy again. I purchased a blood flow restriction band to continue the exercises at home. My goal is to climb Mount Fuji on our Japan trip this summer. No atrophy allowed.