Exercise

Chicago Marathon – October 10, 2021

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I finished today’s Chicago Marathon in one hour and ten minutes, which was far better than my previous effort forty-one years ago, and which would have been a new, unbeatable, world record if not for the fact that my time was somewhat unofficial, given that I didn’t register for the race, never approached the starting line, or the first few miles of the course for that matter, and turned around on my course-adjacent path at the five-mile mark. I did however, carbo-load last night.

In any case, there I was, just like Rosie Ruiz, among the pack of leaders for at least a tenth of a second, glowing in the cheers of the crowd lining the street, so many of them ringing cow bells that even Christopher Walken might have been satisfied.

Even though I hadn’t yet had breakfast, I resisted, because of my questionable status, the urge to partake of the snacks, like doughnut holes, being offered runners along the way by people who obviously have never experienced exercise-related transient abdominal pain (a side stitch). I may go back out later, however, and look for leftovers.

606 Trail – December 26, 2019

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I still haven’t scaled Mt. Everest or qualified for the Astronaut Candidate Program (my lack of a degree in one of the required sciences certainly being the only thing holding me back), but now I can scratch off walking the 606 Trail, or at least most of it, from my bucket list (from which I also scratched off a bucket handle tear of meniscus cartilage earlier this year).

Make no mistake about it, the trail has some elevation changes (okay, pretty gentle, more like the ramp leading into Mt. Sinai Hospital than the South Col Route up Mt. Everest). But, at 2.7 miles each way, the trail required me to cover a lot more ground in my extravehicular activity (from a good nearby parking space), and with more gravity holding me back than it did either Neil Armstrong or Buzz Aldrin (the moon’s is one-sixth that of the earth’s), and in a lot less time than their 2 hours, 31 minutes, 40 seconds (but who’s counting).

Besides being unencumbered by automobile or lunar module traffic (but watch out for the bicycles whizzing by), the trail offers great people watching and interesting views down tree-lined streets and into a variety of nearby residences for those who relish peeking into others’ homes (you know who you are).

While the path itself is hard, like a typical sidewalk, each side has a narrow (but wide enough for one person) rubberized lane that is a godsend for the weak-kneed. Water fountains abound, and I assume that, in those months when warm weather is expected (a list that’s growing and will soon include December), the fountains may actually be turned on.

The only thing the trail lacks from my standpoint (besides refreshments and jazz musicians at rest stops), is an intriguing destination (though the dog area at Walsh Park seemed to be popular) and perhaps some moon rocks to gather.

Earth Day Work Release – Washington Square Park – April 27, 2019

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In case you remember the Pogo catchphrase, “we have met the enemy and he is us” but not the 1971 Earth Day poster wherein it gained its fame, here it is.

Earth Day originally was proposed to be on the first day of spring, March 21, in 1970, but then, for reasons beyond my ken (though I suspect it was so that a politician could claim credit over the peace activist who actually originally proposed it), was changed to April 22. Perhaps the later date was to ensure good weather. Surprise. Snow storm today!

This was my fourth year helping out in Washington Square Park, spreading mulch around a dozen of its trees (but who’s counting), as others did much the same, wheelbarrowed in the mulch, swept up debris, performed administrative duties, or drank coffee and chatted while attempting to look engaged.

As in the past, I didn’t read the waiver I signed (don’t do this at home) or ask for a copy of it, so I don’t know if it said anything about the effects of breathing in mulch fumes. I’m not suggesting that there was any particular reason for concern, but, after all, it was mulch, complete with wood chips, and I can’t help but think about the movie Fargo.

I tried to stay upwind as much as possible and avoid deep breathing. I also brought my own gloves and wore them at all times, though now it occurs to me that I should throw them out to be consistent. Hopefully the complimentary donut holes weren’t in any way infected.

Maybe next time I shouldn’t spend the days leading into Earth Day reading The Royal Art of Poison: Filthy Palaces, Fatal Cosmetics, Deadly Medicine, and Murder Most Foul.

 

 

 

 

Earth Day (a day early) – Washington Square Park – April 21, 2018

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I raked some lawn; I swept some sidewalk; I talked to Howard, who moved here a month ago from China, and whose English is a lot better than my nonexistent Chinese; I had my picture taken as part of the group, but didn’t stay for the pizza (though I did have two donut holes); and I got some exercise and a t-shirt for my efforts.

This was the third time I’ve helped clean up the park and lived to tell about it (not even any soreness the next day), which is good because I signed a waiver that I didn’t read. (Where was there a lawyer when I needed one?)

My best waiver story is from a race I ran in many years ago. The waiver included a clause that said I would be liable for the race promotor’s attorney’s fees if I were the plaintiff in a suit against the promotor as a result of anything arising out of the race. I added language to the effect that I would not be responsible if I were such a plaintiff as a result of being part of a class action. No one challenged my addition, probably because they didn’t even notice it.

One of the other helpers in the park was a young lady who dances in Hamilton and raked before heading for her Saturday matinee, whereas I raked before taking a nap.

Given that the theme of this year’s Earth Day was End Plastic Pollution, it was odd that they had plastic bottles of water for the helpers and were putting garbage into plastic bags, but we’ve only been celebrating Earth Day since 1970, so maybe they’ll get it right in the 50th year, next year.

White Pines Golf Dome – Ongoing

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The background music at the White Pines Golf Dome is sixties rock. Fortunately, the rhythm of the songs they play suits my swing. Way back when, I loved running to the rhythm of certain songs. My personal favorite was the Spinners’ 1980 version of Working My Way Back to You (with no offense to the original Four Seasons version). Now, if only I could master rhythm on the piano. I play the piano as if I were doing interval training on the track, frequently (though unintentionally, as opposed to when running) changing the beat, regardless of how the music is actually written – let’s call it unintentional improvisation, a new kind of jazz.

The Dome opens at 7:00 am. No matter how early I get there, the caffeinated coffee urn is empty. Maybe there’s never any, even if you get there at 7:00 sharp, which I guess doesn’t really matter to me because I don’t like coffee. I drink it for the vanilla creamer. I keep vanilla extract in my kitchen cabinet, with no idea of what I’m going to do with it (I don’t bake), but reassured by it just being there. It has been suggested to me that I sniff it on days when I need a lift. Sure, why not, it’s probably not a gateway drug – I’ve never heard of flavors anonymous.

As for golf, I’m currently working on only seven swing thoughts, which is pretty good for me, and which I should be able to handle, based upon Miller’s Law. Miller’s Law refers to the oft-cited article, “The Magical Number Seven, Plus or Minus Two: Some Limits on Our Capacity for Processing Information”, published in 1956 in Psychological Review by the Princeton University cognitive psychologist George A. Miller. I try not to think about the article itself while swinging – that would be an eighth thing to remember, and would throw everything off.

Pilates Class – 2017

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Apparently there are between eight and fourteen different kinds of yoga. In 2016 I tried one (well two, really, if you count the one chair yoga session I took at a conference – I don’t). Yoga is not for me. For one thing, I have bad knees, and many of the standing positions (not in the chair class) were unrealistic for me. And I’m just not into the whole spiritual side of it. I don’t say amen, so why would I say namaste.  Near the end of one class the instructor told us to clear our minds and forget about work. I had until she said that. Then I couldn’t stop thinking about it

So, when I retired, I decided to try Pilates. I’d had instruction in the use of a reformer, but I find a mat class better for me. So three mornings a week I, one other guy, and between three and eight women, head for the party room in our building, where we’re led through an hour-long class (one of those 50-minute hours actually), at the end of which I just know that I’ve elongated previously undiscovered fibers throughout of my body, though perhaps not to the extent of Elastigirl in The Incredibles.

And, indeed, I’ve noticed an improvement in my flexibility as it relates to my golf swing. Also, I’ve finally met some people in my building after 10 years (and learned their names). Some of us even go out together for drinks, which apparently is an integral part of Pilates training, at least in our building.

The most interesting aspect of the class is that the two guys head for the front and most of the women fight to be as far back as possible. Exactly the opposite of every other exercise class I’ve ever been in. There’s a lot of chatter, and who knows what else, that goes on behind me, out of my visual range.  I’ve heard rumors about people falling off rollers.  But I’ve been told that what happens in the back row, stays in the back row.