“So, how are you?” goes the greeting. Most normal people automatically come back with something like, “Very well, and how are you?” Or, increasingly, “I’m good” – referring, one assumes, not to their moral condition but their physical well-being. But what if we took that question literally?

People who know me say that I look OK for my age, but could do with losing the beer gut. I would not disagree. But I thought I’d undertake a detailed inspection. Starting at the bottom (though not in the anatomical sense) and working up:

• Feet: peripheral neuropathy, i.e chronic but mild “pins and needles” in both soles; investigated at KCH.
• Right heel: plantar fasciitis since Sep 2023; improving but some pain persists.
• Left lower leg: varicose vein successfully operated on in Jan 2023.
• Knees: both still my own, slight twinge/weakness in right knee.
• Hips: also my own; no (known) problems.
• Bowel: screened for bowel cancer in Feb 2024 (negative); but three polyps removed; internal haemorrhoids for at least 20 years; possibly improving.
• Prostate: enlarged for over 20 years; frequent trips to toilet and getting worse.
• Liver: severe hepatitis 10 years ago; some cirrhosis detected.
• Lungs: had TB as a child; allergic to feathers etc; asthmatic; inhaler-user.
• Heart: now taking medication to lower blood pressure.
• Veins: cholesterol a bit high; now taking statins.
• Neck: stiffness, arthritis and occasional pain since a childhood accident.
• Jaw: temporomandibular disorder (TMD), i.e. minor dislocation.
• Back: ower back pain; currently not too bad.
• Teeth: not brilliant, literally; several crowns but no dentures.
• Nose: mild hay-fever according to the season.
• Ears: chronic tinnitus for 10 years, developing deafness.
• Eyes: floaters, developing cataracts; both parents had glaucoma, so at risk.
• Skin: sun-damaged; many small moles but no known melanomas.
• Arms: old squash injury to right elbow causes some pain and weakness in that arm.
• Hands: arthritis in both hands and wrists, worse in left. 

I haven’t even started on the psychological ailments. Hypochondria, maybe? I am not asking for sympathy, you understand.

Indeed, I have got off lightly

And despite that long and impressive list… if asked, I would reply that I feel in pretty good health. I can still do almost anything I want: talk, read, write, cook, eat, ride a bike, swim, play the guitar etc.

It is only when we look at our bodies in detail that we realise how many issues, albeit minor ones, we have. Genetic factors are important (my father died at 96 and my mother is still going at 94, by the way!) but most of the damage is down to wear and tear; and as we get older there will be more wearing and tearing, with a consequent loss of strength, balance and stamina. But is it inevitable?

***

My motto for the last decade has been “get on with it“. As I may have said before, when I retired (nine years ago!) I made a list of six or seven things I wanted to do. Seeing more of my friends, looking after my parents, travelling, writing, undertaking a research project, playing and recording more music… I have done everything on my list, if not as well as I would have liked. Apart from one thing.

That one thing being to take more exercise and get stronger and fitter. In my defence, I take well over 5,000 steps most days and I go swimming every week, but it does not add up to a lot. The one thing I have not taken seriously is looking after my ageing body.

Clausewitz (in the context of how to win a war) wrote that things that seem simple are still difficult to achieve. And the truth is that I would rather build a website than go for a run.

***

But finally (with my wife Anne) I have started to do something about it. Believe it or not, I am not only going to the gym but I have a personal trainer.

You are free to laugh

A few weeks ago I went for my first hour-long session with Omar. I warmed up with a couple of miles on the static bike then began to pull, push and stretch on various scary-looking machines under his instruction. After that first session I left feeling better. I wasn’t expecting a miracle but I had started to exercise muscles that I literally didn’t know I had. The following morning I awoke to a bit of pain in my shoulders and back. The pain spread throughout my upper body and I spent the next two days in agony (though I tend to exaggerate). We’d worked mainly on my arms and torso, so I could at least walk. The pain subsided on Friday and I went to the pool (I’m now swimming twice a week).

As the week passed, I was dreading my second session. Evil Omar had warned me that he’d been going easy on me and that it would get tougher. That was to be expected, but why was I doing this to myself?

And it really was tougher

But the subsequent pain was not anything like as bad as before. Following my third session, I am beginning to think that I might be getting some benefit.

When the escalator at Moorfields station in Liverpool was not working yesterday, I was about to wait for the lift. Then I thought, “I’m paying to improve my fitness, so why don’t I just walk up – as that’s free?” I did, so and just about managed it without having to stop to get my breath back. Two hours later, when my train arrived at Euston, I decided to hurry to my Thameslink connection at St Pancras rather than saunter across and wait another quarter of an hour for the next train. I even broke into a run, rucksack on my back. What the hell. For the first time in my life I made it between the stations in under 12 minutes.

I am not yet a man of steel

But my attitude has become more positive. Of course I need to stick with it. It’s going to take a bit more work to put decades of neglect right. Part of my purpose for writing this post is to say so publicly.

Omar describes it as a journey.

***

I’ve been thinking about pilgrimages and faith recently because of a visit to Holywell, in North Wales. I’ve known about St Winefride’s Well for many years but last week finally got the opportunity to visit (thanks to Jan and Doug for driving me from Hawarden).

It is a quiet, restful place near the Flintshire coast. The so-called “Lourdes of Wales”, it would have been a pagan shrine many centuries ago. All across the world freshwater springs are sacred.

Underneath the 16th-century Gothic chapel is the crypt and the holy well itself; outside is the pool that pilgrims come to bathe in. The water is very cold (I dared to dip my hand in). While I was there, people were arriving to immerse themselves. One couple, who I think were Irish travellers, were dipping a young boy wearing a hearing aid who seemed to have behavioural problems. Another child who had already been in the water clearly did not want to enter a second time! Another middle-aged couple had a Scottish accent.

To believe literally in the healing power of a spring seems ridiculous to me as I am not in any way religious. ButI do not care what you believe in as long as you do not impose your beliefs on me or anyone else.

For some people such a journey may be a desperate act in search of an unlikely cure. For others, like myself, it may just be an act of tourism. It is a beautiful place.

Maybe this is a bit fanciful but I found myself making a connection between the fitness training and the pilgrimage: you may believe in its power to cure, but you also have to get off your backside and do your bit. Just as you will not win the lottery unless you buy a ticket, there can be no healing without your commitment. And that can be hard.

Maybe it is all about the journey

.