Let me tell you a story.

Once there was a little girl who loved to dance. Hopeless at all other sports, this was her preferred form of exercise and she dreamed of one day being a ballet teacher. Then she hit a certain age, misplaced her sense of self and quit dancing to join instead the far more popular Drum Majorettes. This was a silly choice, because as soon as she graduated from high school she found herself with neither dancing nor drum majorettes in her life. But as you know, you can’t talk sense into teenagers.

Almost twenty years on she decided she needed some rhythm in her life again, so she signed on for Salsa classes at the local community centre. Her Cuban instructor was full of praise and her sense of self began to return. A series of events over a period of another three years saw her in a new city, with no Salsa classes in sight… But the dancing bug had been tickled to life and would not be still.

One day she saw an ad in the paper. Someone was looking for dance instructors – no experience required, training would be given. Oh joy! Could this be her dream come true?

So at the age of thirty-eight she started dancing again in earnest. Realising that the years had made her somewhat soft in the middle she also started an exercise regime designed to Strengthen and Tone. Goodbye bingo-wings, hello killer abs!

Only… not so much. Instead of feeling stronger all she feels is broken. The neck is crook, she has tendinitis in the right Achilles tendon and now she has strained a ligament in her left shoulder. It hurts to walk (Achilles). It hurts to sit (neck). It hurts to lie down (shoulder).


Is thirty-eight really too old to start getting fit again?

Oy. They might as well just put me out to pasture.