health

Back In the Game.

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I’ve always had an over-inflated sense of my own height, culminating in a basketball career that extended from about the age of 14 to 28.  Despite being five foot something, I became a reasonable basketball player and even played at representative level due to other sports being far more popular in my home town.

My parents were as supportive as they could be, preferring to drop me off for my four games a week and head home for a rerun of Felix and Oscar. It wasn’t until I attempted to watch other teams playing, some years into my career, that I fully appreciated how excruciating-a-spectator-sport basketball truly is, and forgave my parents for not watching me play.

Those were the days before mobile phones, when you’d let the rotary phone ring twice and then hang up as the signal for Mum or Dad to jump in the Commodore for the pick up. It was also the age of the Zooper Dooper, and no basketball game was complete without at least a couple of these refreshing frozen bags full of cordial at 15 cents a pop.

Anyway, all this nostalgia is not really what this blog post was meant to be about.  Bear with me, I’m getting there….because it was at the age of 15 or 16 when I was playing A-grade basketball that I would sometimes cast my eye over to one of the other courts and behold what appeared to be a bunch of ageing, saggy, 40-something year olds huffing and puffing their way through a game. Snotty kids on the sidelines, playing in the lower grades and perhaps a little dumpy around the middle were just a few of the outstanding features etched into my mind. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I felt horror, but certainly pity was an overwhelming emotion.

Fast forward 25 years. A certain 40-something woman, bit dumpy around the middle and barely able to run a lap hits the basketball court after 15 years in the wilderness.

Now I’m one of them. And I’m loving it.

Sure, my body is taking far too long to get into the position it knows it should be in, and my percentages aren’t what they used to be…but who cares? The competitive spirit, the love of being part of a team and the thrill of a win is all still there. Strong as ever.

Of course, I’ve said a silent sorry to all of those women I pitied all those years ago. Now, as the victim of those looks rather than the perpetrator I feel a certain sense of calm smugness that can only come with knowing that a game of basketball, no matter how good you think you are, isn’t going to change the world. But damn it feels good.

Why Don’t We Do What We Know We Ought?

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I was at the dentist the other day, and he asked me the bi-annual question about flossing. Do you floss each day? “Of course”…the words started forming in my un-flossed mouth…and then, “well, actually not as often as I should…like twice a week if I’m honest” came out.

This set me on a train of thinking about why us humans avoid doing the things we know we should be doing to help ourselves. They’re not even hard things. And sometimes, they’re things that could add years to our life, or even save it. Are we self-destructive? Too busy? Forgetful? Do we not believe the professional opinions of the professionals? Or are we just plain lazy. I was on a mission to find out.

I started with some extensive first hand research at a kid’s birthday party where I met a woman who helps rehabilitate people following work-related accidents. Apart from being horrified by the number of people with suspicious compo claims, I was intrigued by her answer to my question about why people don’t do the exercises you’re meant to do after visiting the physio. Sound familiar?

She went with a variation on the lazy theme. “People think that we’ll do all the work to fix them,” she said. “When really 99% of the work needs to be done outside the physio’s office and that’s where all the progress is made.

It’s funny how themes emerge when you get to thinking about something. In a work meeting last week, a colleague recounted his wife’s frustration at being a child speech pathologist. This wonderful woman, superb at her job, was looking to get out of her profession due to her exasperation over parents who invariably lied about doing the required practice at home with their kids. We’ll even choose not to do what ought to be done for our children!

My extensive research points to the conclusion that I’m not alone in…not drinking enough water, stretching properly after a workout, sitting up straight or leaving the skin check or breast exam too long.

What strange creatures we are. And with that, I’m off to have a glass of water and floss my teeth, whilst pondering if it’s not too late to start on those calf exercises prescribed back in 2005.