I have reached the point in life where I make noises when I stand up or sit down. Getting out of bed in the morning produces a cacophony of groans, grunts, and popping sounds. I baby my right knee so as not to torque it. Bending over to touch the floor requires an act of willpower.
Blair and I were in the car this weekend and as we parked and got out, I let forth with a few "ow's" and "oh's" as I shook the blood back into my legs.
"I feel fine," said Blair with an annoyingly smug look on his face.
"That's because you don't work out," I shot back. "If you were healthy, like me, you would hurt more."
Crazy sounding, but I stand by my logic. Blair will probably die a peaceful death in his sleep, mobile until his final days. I'll end up bed-ridden and highly medicated for the damage I did to my body over the years.
But if I outlive him, I'll still have to crow a bit, and attribute it all to exercise. ;)