I'm banjaxed

I think it was Spike Milligan who said he had the body of an 18 year old - apparently he kept it at home in his fridge. In similar fashion, I have the body of a pensioner, but sadly I actually have to live in mine.

Pursuing fitness and personal health comes at a cost to your fitness and health you know. You see, I've been taking a little rest from the gym the past week because of a few niggles to my knees (both of them), back (all of it), and neck, and shoulders and ankles, plus me calves and shins. I've been using the time to eat lots of crap and reflect on just what a steaming pile of shite my body is. No seriously. I've never played a rough team sport or had a serious injury or spell of hospitalisation in my life, yet if I get so much as a whiff of a treadmill the cursed thing nearly puts me in traction for a month.

It's frustrating, I'm pissed off. All's I want is to do my little bit of health-giving gymming a few times a week and not end up shuffling around in a hunch going "oooooh me lumbago" every five minutes. I'm starting to think I'm just poorly put together and made of genetic spare parts or something, like God had nothing left so he put me together from whatever was left on the shelf.

I've tried to get it sorted out professionally. I went to a chiropractor first of all, who assessed how I walk and gave me things to put in my shoes and told me I was mis-aligned up my right hand side and had fallen arches. This was alot to take in at one go, it sounded like I was for the knacker's yard but she was quite cute and kept smiling at me so I got over it. She then proceeded to fling me around the room for a few minutes, crunching so many bits that I sounded like a herd of pigs eating a trough full of almonds. I went through this regularly for a few months and after every visit my condition would improve slightly, but at one stage I just stopped going after realising I could be seeing this person for the rest of my life for short term gains but without ever truly sorting my aches and pains out. And the chiropractor was quite happy to continue taking my money and was becoming noticeably evasive when I pushed for feedback and details on my progress. So I gave her the arse.

Now I go to an Osteopath. He crunches me too but also sticks little needles in me and makes me do funny stretches and routines and stuff. I should soon qualify for employment at the Ministry of Silly Walks, if they'll have me. Injuries permitting and all. So far results have been good though, I've made much more progress than with the chiropractor but all the while, still know that if I try anything wild, like say a sprint on the treadmill, or a few minutes on the rower, I could end up bed-ridden for the rest of my days.

There's times I wonder if I have muscle and bone at all like normal folk. Or will my osteopath turn to me one day and go, "Ah yes I've found the problem. Instead of the normal skeletal structures, you're actually made up of an elaborate network of chicken wire and elastic bands. That's why you're such a spongy git. You're fucked. 50 quid please."

Sure I'll be sorted eventually. Fingers crossed. Although very carefully. Just in case.