Old dogs? Not this time...

 “If you think you can or you

think you can’t, you’re right.”

- Henry Ford, founder 

Ford Motor Company 

 

Laura said, "Just lie back in the water, and imagine you are on a teeter-totter or floating on a cloud.” 

That was easy for her to say. She clearly did not understand.

“I would love that,” I replied, but my legs are heavy and always sink.”

Lucky me…

My family spent our summer holidays in the Muskoka region of Central Ontario on the shores of Lake Joseph. Mother thought it was a good use of her time to ensure her children would be safe around water, so she taught my sisters and me to swim.

She was clear, “There is nothing more wonderful than being in the water…there is also nothing more potentially dangerous.”  She wanted us to be safe.

Being able to swim and swimming are two different things. I was not a swimmer, but a ‘water player’ — meaning that when water skiing, tipping out of a canoe, or jumping off a diving board, I could survive in the water. But swimming for its own sake, you know, moving arms and legs over distance, just wasn't interesting – until…

Living in the sunshine on the coast…

Several years ago, we moved from Detroit to San Diego. I have been a recreational gym rat for years. I knew how important resistance training was to remain functional while growing older, so I joined a fitness center. There was a basketball court and a weightlifting area. But, as it turned out, there was also a large twenty-five-meter outdoor pool for lap swimming. 

A glass wall overlooked the pool from the weightlifting part of the gym, and I found myself, for reasons unknown to this day, watching folk swim multiple twenty-five-meter laps. It was like watching paint dry.

Ha! How boring that must be! I thought to myself.

The thing is, the locker room was shared by the swimmers and the ‘real exercisers,’ you know, ball players and weightlifters. I would hear these guys talk about how great and refreshed they felt after swimming for thirty minutes or an hour. Initially, I ignored the chatter.

Somewhere in the second month at the gym, I discovered I had contracted a psychic virus. It was so strong that I found myself in a delusional state, compelled to try swimming. I fought it, of course, but in the end, it was too overpowering. 

Purchasing a set of baggy swim trunks and goggles, I jumped in the water. What was I doing? 

While I knew a few different strokes from my mother (breast, side, and back), after fifty meters in the water the first day, I was exhausted. It was humiliating.

By two months, however, I was able to swim uninterrupted for thirty minutes…and, I hesitate to admit, was beginning to enjoy it. 

It turned out that this cabal of regular swimmers was very happy to share tips and tidbits that made the exercise more palatable, even on the verge of being enjoyable. 

In those two months, I ditched the baggy trunks for a pair of streamlined above-the-knee leg huggers — a real improvement. One fellow suggested I get a face mask and a snorkel for freestyle swimming. While this configuration prohibited side and backstrokes, it was great for breaststroke and freestyle. I was on my way.l

A significant issue I faced was the weight of my legs. When freestyle swimming, they sank, decreasing any efficiency and increasing the effort. To the rescue, another fellow suggested I ditch the facemask and side snorkel, opting for one that sits in front of the nose and between the eyes. That allowed me to get rid of the mask, wearing only a small set of goggles. The final item was a small buoy (float device) that, placed between my legs, prevented them from sinking. I was set!!

Note: I had gone to the snorkel in the first place because when I tried to breathe during freestyle, I got as much water in my mouth as I got air... the snorkel stopped that.

By then, I was living in Oro Valley, Arizona, and swimming at a local outdoor aquatic center, even during COVID.

 

Folks here in the desert are not so locker room friendly, but watching other swimmers smoothly moving through the water without a snorkel or leg buoys, I wondered whether I might also learn to swim without them.

Everyone needs a little help...

This is where Laura, my swimming coach, enters the story. For several months, I had seen this woman teaching young people, children, and babies to swim. I wanted to ask her if she would be willing to take on a geriatric client. I did, and she agreed. As it turns out, she is excellent.

So far, she has helped with intermittent non-snorkel laps. Breathing without drinking is still an issue, but it's improving. Legs, on the other hand, without the buoy, continue to sink.

“I have an idea,” she said during our last session.

 “Why don’t you just lie back in the water, and imagine you are on a teeter-totter or floating on a cloud?" 

“I would love that,” I replied, “but as I said, my legs are heavy and always sink.”

“Let’s try it anyway,” she said with a cheery smile, ignoring my protest.

Okay, if it makes her feel better…Whatever, I thought.

I lay back in the water, and with a bit of help stabilizing me, Laura let go. I lay on the top of the water, floating…floating! For the first time in my life...in my late seventies - legs and all!

“You believed you couldn’t, so you never tried or had anyone to teach you,” Laura said with a knowing look. “You only needed a little faith and a little help.”

I appreciate that floating in the water may seem like a small thing, but it was not a small thing to me. It was an epiphany, and I was over the moon. I'm still in the afterglow as I put fingers to keyboard.

An old dog? – Yep. 

A new trick? Yes sir, and it was a good one!

ted

 

Smaller steps...

“Aging is NOT just a number…

wisdom is not qualifiable.”          -  

- Anonymous

 

This summer I turned seventy-eight. Seventy-eight! 

Next month is my sixtieth high school reunion!

 

And who is that elderly person living in my mirror!!

 

It is not original to say, “Where did it go?” But WHERE THE HECK DID IT GO??!! By the way…what is ‘it’ anyway?

 

Off the road…

Six years ago, I retired from work. No more airplanes to catch, speeches to give, research data to sort though, and clinics to manage. No more packing and unpacking in anonymous hotel rooms with strange shower configurations. And yes, that is a thing!  

 

More than once, I called maintenance to tell them the shower in my room wasn’t working, only to discover, it was me that wasn’t working – trust me on this, not all shower operations are equal! Mercifully, my humiliation was shared only by the guy who came to help, not the audience for whom I wanted clean skin and hair.

 

Into the classroom…

I had been thinking about stepping away from the travel and finding something different to do with the ‘golden years’ of my life. Fortunately, when I got off the road, I got a job teaching at a local junior college. 

 

When sprinting on the treadmill of my carrier (It’s Wednesday, it must be Istanbul), the people I worked with and for, often said with a smug wink and a nod: “People who can – Do. People who can’t – Teach.” And for the record, in my ignorance, I chuckled and agreed… you know the inside joke made by so called productive folk. 

 

In the early eighties, I had taught a few years of university before going into the private sector. The decades of my career in health care made me think I could jump into academia, like getting back on a bicycle. It wouldn’t be a problem, ‘cause, you know…I had been doing and in my early seventies, I knew lots of stuff! Unfortunately, the stuff I knew was not exactly the stuff I needed.

 

Coming back to teaching anatomy and physiology was, from my mouth to God’s ear, one of the hardest things I have done in my life. Much to my surprise and subsequent chagrin I discovered there was an immense difference between preparing/presenting professional lectures for a one time scientific or specialty meeting and preparing/presenting content dense material to the same people in a classroom for sixteen weeks. I had accepted the position without realizing what it would take.

 

 

Out of the classroom…

This past Spring Semester was my last. After six years of eating humble pie and studying my brains out to keep up, it was time to step away. Every term, I would do my best to capture students and then go through empty nesting at the end because of the ‘ships passing in the night’ relationships I had developed.  They were the most rewarding years of my life.

 

Now what?

 I often hear folks say, “You are only as young as you feel,” or “Age is only a number.” You know who says those things? Mostly YOUNGER PEOPLE!  You know why? Because they have not had ‘old person’ experience.

 

Folks are in the era of my life, often say things like: 

·       “My balance seems to be an issue”

·       “I don’t remember my legs feeling this heavy”

·       “I’m sorry would you repeat that?”

·       “Okay, but this is strictly confidential, I’ve started wearing those pee pads”

·       “Flomax…what a godsend!”

·       “Hmm, I came in here for something…”

·       “Did you hear so and so has passed away.”

·       “I was thinking about exercising but my:

o   gout is acting up, knees arthritic, back hurts…”

 

You get the picture. 

 

There is more to do…

These years are honestly anything but golden, but they are also not tarnished silver. Despite the realities of the above list, there are lots of things to do and resources to find them. Consider:

·       Regular exercise: walking, swimming, stationary or road biking, yoga or Tai chi

·       Healthy diet: balanced diet (fruits, vegetables, whole grains, healthy fats and lean protein). Key is water, water, water…even when not so thirsty.

·       Sleep: often not seen as important as the above, but it may be the most

·       Regular check-ups for preventive care and management of encroaching chronic conditions

·       Puzzles, games and hobbies

·       Lifetime learning: reading, podcasts, lectures in person or online

·       Social activity: be proactive in family, friend, and group relations. Isolation leads to early death.

·       Mindfulness: Meditation and breathing exercises

 

The aperture of life is getting smaller with time. So? There are fewer distractions, which can help center our minds…meaning more quality time to appreciate the moments…the days. I’m actually pretty good with this diminished and more focused time in my life. 

There is that one thing though, that really bothers me.

 

That damned old guy hiding in the mirror. 

 

ted

Buju and the shoe...

“Without [play], life just doesn’t taste good.”

- Lucia, Capocchione: 

Italian-American Psychologist

 

There are two characters in this brief story, as the title suggests:

 

1.    One very animate - a three-year-old, sixty or so pounder (29kg), Portuguese Water Dog - 'Buju' (Boo-Joo).     

 

2.    One inanimate size 14 moderate hiker - 'the shoe.'

A little history…

We were visiting an adopted family in Vancouver. This story's origin goes back more than a quarter of a century and began, as most things have in my life, as an unguarded moment when I met the late patriarch of the Cheong family, Wing Lee. We traveled to China, Singapore, and Taiwan for several years. He was the brother I never had.

 

Fast forward…

His eldest son, Chung, and his mother, Sally, visited us in March of this year. It was great, but the days were too short. They invited us to visit them in Vancouver, and so at the end of May, we did.  

 

Chung found a lovely B&B for a week's holiday near the University (UBC). Coming from the desert, finding lush tall trees and hiking trails everywhere was quite a change.

 

The mornings were in the low 50°s F (11ish C°). Our hostess had a pool in the backyard with some deck furniture. The area was surrounded by a moderately high fence and evergreen trees. Sitting in the mornings, drinking coffee, reading a little, eating breakfast, and spending some meditative time was a treat.

 

Buju appears…

The first morning (Friday), as we left for the day, we unexpectedly encountered Buju, an integral part of this story. He followed us to the gate, exiting the backyard, jumping all over us until we were safely out. It was a day to look around Vancouver and get our feet on the ground.

 

The second morning (Saturday), Buju was lying in front of the glass door to our basement apartment. I opened the door and played with him a little…he was even more active than the first day. When our friend arrived to take us on the day's adventure, joining a Dragon Boat group and an afternoon wander around Granville Island. Buju was ecstatic…one more person to play with. As we left for the day, the scene from the day before was repeated.

 

The third morning, Buju was back at the door…a glass-framed door—important in the tale. Apparently, he had noticed the shoes near the door the day before. When Chung arrived to pick us up, I opened the door to let him in. At that very moment, Buju charged in and grabbed the shoe. Before we could stop him, he was in the backyard playing, 'Get the shoe from the dog.'

 

For the next twenty minutes or so, it was a mostly unsuccessful attempt to get that shoe back. It was play, after all – right? Chung and I looked like we were in a comedy sketch, trying to catch 'Buju with the shoe.' In the end, we got the shoe back, but not before all the players were worn out. I'm unsure who tired out the most, Chung, me or Buju. Okay, I am sure…it was me!

 

Our hostess was mortified and for the rest of the time we were in her home, Buju was kept in the house until we were gone for the day…much to my disappointment. 

 

The last few days as I drank coffee and read, I thought about Buju and my shoe. It was challenging to chase that dog all over the backyard, but it was fun! I was reminded of George Bernard Shaw’s quote: “We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.

 

I think I could use a little more Buju in my life!

 

- ted