What Can Old Fat Ladies Do?

What can old fat ladies do? I'm hoping to explore that topic here.

As I get older, I feel more limited in what I can do. Skydiving? Probably not. Do old fat ladies with fake knees jump out of airplanes? I had a brief mourning period back when I was 38 because I had never jumped out of an airplane, and I was already too old to do it. At age 38! If I had actually wanted to try skydiving, I could have. For all I know, I still could.

Why the preoccupation with skydiving? Two reasons. First, I'm a fan of Top Chef Masters. The season premiere earlier this summer showed all but one of the chefs (even the older, fatter ones) skydiving into their first cooking challenge.They made it look easy, and even the terrified ones claimed to have loved the experience. Second, my son-in-law recently jumped out of an airplane (skydove?). He's young and athletic, and loves to try new things. My daughter didn't join him in the jump, though. I wonder if she'll regret it when she's in her sixties? More likely, she'll have done it by then.

So what can I do? The fake knee limits me in a couple of areas. I was told that I couldn't run or ski. I hadn't been doing much of either of those recently, so I figured there wouldn't be a problem.

But what about climbing Mount Everest? Could a person with a fake knee do that? Somewhere in the back of my mind, I want to be able to do it. I love reading about Everest, watching documentaries about Everest, imagining myself in this most unforgiving of environments...but realistically, I know I'll never climb it. For one thing, it takes months of acclimatization and a vast amount of money. For another thing? See "fat", above. Add "out of shape" to that.

Which brings me to something an old fat lady can do: get into shape.

Today I Googled "personal trainer arthritis" to see if I could turn up any local personal trainers who dealt with people like me. Clearly, I should have chosen different words for my search. I found exercises for people with arthritis, but realistically, I won't do it on my own. I need somebody who will inspire me and motivate me without shaming me or belittling me. I need a location near where I live -

- and that's where everything grinds to a halt.

I want to move away from the poor city where I live now. I want to move closer to Boston. I wouldn't join a gym where I live now even if such a thing existed. (There's a YMCA; not sure what else.) So I've been putting off my dreams of getting fit with a personal trainer until some indefinite date in the future, After I Move. That date doesn't seem to be getting any closer.

New Year's Not-Quite-Resolutions

I think New Year's resolutions are pointless, and they just set you up for failure. So I resisted making any firm ones. Instead I made a few resolution-like decisions - call them New Year's Suggestions. For example, I decided that if I were making resolutions, I'd resolve to eat more salads. I bought a bag of mixed greens on New Year's Day, and ate salads for four days in a row. I could have had one last night, too, but I had fresh butternut squash instead. I know I could have had salad, too, but I just didn't feel like it. And it wasn't actually a resolution, anyway, and even if it was, it wasn't "Eat salad every day" - it was "Eat more salads", which I've been doing.

If I'd made resolutions, I also might have resolved to get fit for hiking again, something I've wanted to do since I recovered from my left knee replacement surgery. I can walk up hills as long as they're paved. I did a short hike nearby last summer, and it was still difficult to use my left leg to lift myself up steeper parts of the hillside. I'm not sure how to proceed, which is why I didn't make a firm resolution. In my imagination, I'd have some kind of hiking coach. I'm considering emailing the Appalachian Mountain Club: "Hi, I'm pushing 60, fat and have a fake left knee, and I want to start hiking again." After they stopped laughing, they'd probably let me down gently. Or maybe they have a program for aging overweight hikers with knee issues. Right.

Last week we watched a series of "Everest: Beyond the Limit" episodes. One of the climbers had had a knee transplant (not a replacement), and I was hoping he'd do well. He didn't. The climber they described as "larger" didn't make it to the summit, either. I doubt I could ever climb Everest - and maybe I only want to because they burn off 15,000 calories a day just trying to stay alive, and I can just imagine all my fat disappearing. But maybe I could make it a goal to climb Mount Washington (which I climbed during my twenties) again. I should be able to do that on a fake knee, don't you think?