Earlier this month, I did a four minute lap
We're very fortunate to have a well utilized indoor Recreational Centre, that appeals to many sectors within our community.
The enclosed building provides all residents with a several thousand seat ice arena and a comprehensive aquatic program. These world-class facilities offer an abundance of interest for local fit-folk, but they're not in my immediate focus today.
My interest now, is the four or five wide lane jogging track, stra- tegically glassed behind the last row of seats around the top of our ice arena. I've used these track facilities before during our colder months, while in my earlier angina years. I can do this again.
We recently had several back-to-back snotty December days, which seemed an ideal time to come in from the cold, and revisit the site. I had forgotten about a mostly physically active mature bunch with swinging elbows, that frequent the place every weekday morning. This is not a distracted iPod crowd. Their frailties are more basic. Rather, they sometimes absently chat along side each other, in stead of jogging in single file, and are therefore prone to step on the odd wayward (bum) foot. My Ouch.
In short order, I found out it was more prudent (and safer) for me to stay well inside the slow lane. There were occasions, when I was actually closer to the adjoining hockey seats, than Lane Two. It's not that I wanted any strangers to accidentally bump into my chest area, but this is still after all, Mall-Month. You fast realize your limitations in crowded quarters. Worst, most speed-demons 'of a certain age' were passing me on the starboard side. Zipping by at a brisk walking speed, no less. So be damned, if I was going to celebrate the first occasion here in a long time, by letting my fellow walkers know it would be safer for me today, if I shuffled along and hugged my red heart pillow, too. I left that little beauty parked outside in the car. Anyway, I'm sure all morning there was an invisible neon sign on my back that flashed, "Keep Right!"
I've already confidently survived several last-minute Christmas mall shopping forays. But today's crowd is starting to jog up my snoot. It's time to size this well-intentioned morning activity up, as a one-off non-event. After beating the boards for half an hour, the best I could do that day in low gear, was just shy of a four minute walkabout -- in what amounts to be an area of nothing more, than an over sized ice hockey surface. There's simply no way to go people, but up!
So, enough of this nonsense. Later in the day, Christmas came early from me to me. I finally found a reason to purchase a heart monitor around my chest area and wrist watch at our Cardiac Rehab Centre. Good news beckons on the horizon.
Several days later after my stress test results, I found out my heart rate during physical activity, should be pumping along in the 108 to 120 range. Now, I've got the tools to monitor a proper speed and duration. This is such a great help to push myself further and faster in a controlled environment. Until quite recently, it was clear I might have been infrequently exercising my legs, but definitely not my heart.
My hour long rehab date is now confirmed for each Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons. I'm actually in a good sweat after these early sessions, with time spent in the off-days on the tread mill at home. Whew. Physical activity of this intensity, hasn't happened since my hard fought pre-angina tennis match days, from another millennium.
It's now personal. First, we concentrate on my legs and heart, while the chest area heals further. Then towards the end of next month, I'll be encouraged by staff to start strengthening the chest and arm areas. The end-picture here is a coordinated BMI weight assault, literally on a pound by pound weight loss basis. I like to visualize this picture in simple-stupid terms: Try to imagine every pound of fat you shed, as to something in size and weight, to that of a pound of butter on the store shelf. My revised early new goal, is to modestly jettison at least 10 of these pound packets before Easter. One at a time.
It's now several weeks, since trundling around our local jogging arena. Clearly, my 'A-Game' needs further improvement. In the process, I am at least starting to munch more greens and spinach.
My last sailboat was called "Popeye." I know a little bit about this lad. As he is often wont to say, "I yams, what I yams." I'm not sure what the past tense of this missive might be. I used to think there should be more 'yams' in all of us -- especially, as year-end fast approaches, the time for resolutions. I'm not so sure, anymore.
The problem is, quiet resolutions often require resolution -- and if you're like most of us, there is a gulf between good intentions and realistic behavior. I'm already trying to adjust. For example, I know such alien words as 'diet' and 'exercise' are soon going to be new found words in my daily vocabulary.
As you can imagine, I'm trying to quietly simplify my life.
Well then, here's a quick resolution to be actioned upon, sometime before the end of next month: Maybe, next time at our community Rec Centre, I can bust open a can of spinach, and leave the Kiddy Lane behind me!
Baby steps, indeed.
The enclosed building provides all residents with a several thousand seat ice arena and a comprehensive aquatic program. These world-class facilities offer an abundance of interest for local fit-folk, but they're not in my immediate focus today.
My interest now, is the four or five wide lane jogging track, stra- tegically glassed behind the last row of seats around the top of our ice arena. I've used these track facilities before during our colder months, while in my earlier angina years. I can do this again.
We recently had several back-to-back snotty December days, which seemed an ideal time to come in from the cold, and revisit the site. I had forgotten about a mostly physically active mature bunch with swinging elbows, that frequent the place every weekday morning. This is not a distracted iPod crowd. Their frailties are more basic. Rather, they sometimes absently chat along side each other, in stead of jogging in single file, and are therefore prone to step on the odd wayward (bum) foot. My Ouch.
In short order, I found out it was more prudent (and safer) for me to stay well inside the slow lane. There were occasions, when I was actually closer to the adjoining hockey seats, than Lane Two. It's not that I wanted any strangers to accidentally bump into my chest area, but this is still after all, Mall-Month. You fast realize your limitations in crowded quarters. Worst, most speed-demons 'of a certain age' were passing me on the starboard side. Zipping by at a brisk walking speed, no less. So be damned, if I was going to celebrate the first occasion here in a long time, by letting my fellow walkers know it would be safer for me today, if I shuffled along and hugged my red heart pillow, too. I left that little beauty parked outside in the car. Anyway, I'm sure all morning there was an invisible neon sign on my back that flashed, "Keep Right!"
I've already confidently survived several last-minute Christmas mall shopping forays. But today's crowd is starting to jog up my snoot. It's time to size this well-intentioned morning activity up, as a one-off non-event. After beating the boards for half an hour, the best I could do that day in low gear, was just shy of a four minute walkabout -- in what amounts to be an area of nothing more, than an over sized ice hockey surface. There's simply no way to go people, but up!
So, enough of this nonsense. Later in the day, Christmas came early from me to me. I finally found a reason to purchase a heart monitor around my chest area and wrist watch at our Cardiac Rehab Centre. Good news beckons on the horizon.
Several days later after my stress test results, I found out my heart rate during physical activity, should be pumping along in the 108 to 120 range. Now, I've got the tools to monitor a proper speed and duration. This is such a great help to push myself further and faster in a controlled environment. Until quite recently, it was clear I might have been infrequently exercising my legs, but definitely not my heart.
My hour long rehab date is now confirmed for each Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons. I'm actually in a good sweat after these early sessions, with time spent in the off-days on the tread mill at home. Whew. Physical activity of this intensity, hasn't happened since my hard fought pre-angina tennis match days, from another millennium.
It's now personal. First, we concentrate on my legs and heart, while the chest area heals further. Then towards the end of next month, I'll be encouraged by staff to start strengthening the chest and arm areas. The end-picture here is a coordinated BMI weight assault, literally on a pound by pound weight loss basis. I like to visualize this picture in simple-stupid terms: Try to imagine every pound of fat you shed, as to something in size and weight, to that of a pound of butter on the store shelf. My revised early new goal, is to modestly jettison at least 10 of these pound packets before Easter. One at a time.
It's now several weeks, since trundling around our local jogging arena. Clearly, my 'A-Game' needs further improvement. In the process, I am at least starting to munch more greens and spinach.
My last sailboat was called "Popeye." I know a little bit about this lad. As he is often wont to say, "I yams, what I yams." I'm not sure what the past tense of this missive might be. I used to think there should be more 'yams' in all of us -- especially, as year-end fast approaches, the time for resolutions. I'm not so sure, anymore.
The problem is, quiet resolutions often require resolution -- and if you're like most of us, there is a gulf between good intentions and realistic behavior. I'm already trying to adjust. For example, I know such alien words as 'diet' and 'exercise' are soon going to be new found words in my daily vocabulary.
As you can imagine, I'm trying to quietly simplify my life.
Well then, here's a quick resolution to be actioned upon, sometime before the end of next month: Maybe, next time at our community Rec Centre, I can bust open a can of spinach, and leave the Kiddy Lane behind me!
Baby steps, indeed.
posted by leisurelan at 11:58 AM
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