January 2008 Archives

It's a bracing zero degrees this morning as I set off for work, but -- mercifully -- there's no wind to speak of, which makes for a splendid amble through the park. I even took a moment to stretch my calves at the foot of the stairs that take me to 46th Street and the Ford Bridge.

On gym days like today (I've resurrected my Life Time Fitness backpack so I can carry both my gym gear and my computer in one handy carry-all), I haven't normally been walking to work, figuring that I get my cardio in the club. So now I'm faced with a bit of a conundrum: Should I still do my 25 minutes on the bike or treadmill or elliptical machines? I suppose it can't hurt, since my knee feels fine. (Just thinking out loud.) Plus, that cardio time sort of loosens me up in a way that seems to make my lifting routine more plausible. I would say "effective," but who knows if what I'm doing is all that effective? Don't think I'll walk home tonight, though.

I mentioned earlier that I'd never set foot in a health club before about a year ago, so it's almost goes without saying that the whole strength training routine remains pretty foreign to me (that is not me in the photo). I can remember as an early teen lifting a barbell at one of my friends' house -- an exercise designed chiefly to identify the wussiest of our pack based on the amount of iron he could raise over his head. It was not a comfortable moment for a scrawny kid like myself, but I've been pleasantly surprised to discover that real strength training is a good deal more sophisticated -- and quite a lot less intimidating.

Of course, that's not to say I have much of a clue about this stuff. Take last night at the gym, for instance. After 25 minutes on the new elliptical machine (much easier on the knees than the treadmill), I shuffled over to the weight room and, as is my habit, surveyed the machines to see what was available. Rather than move from one machine to the next in an orderly fashion, designed to strategically work specific muscle groups, I tend to just wander from one machine to the other based on which one is open -- sort of a half-hearted version of circuit training -- but without a real plan.

What I have noticed in the year since I started doing this stuff semi-regularly is how good my body feels after each session, how the muscles I've been working seem to be generating their own kind of energy. I'm as vain as the next geezer; it's gratifying to see a little bit of definition here and there on my formerly floppy triceps and sagging pectorals. But, what really keeps me coming back to these machines is the knowledge that strength training is vital to your overall health in a way that simply bicycling -- or even walking -- isn't.

All those activities are helpful, of course, but strength training does stuff at the cellular level that can boost immunity, build bone density, and even ease stress. Plus, you don't really have to lift hundreds of pounds of weight in order to have a good result. So, when I set the lat pull-down machine to 70 pounds and do three sets of 10 reps, I know I'm doing myself some good -- even if it may not look that impressive to the guy yanking 150 pounds on the machine next door.

Sure, I'm a piker compared to most of the young bucks in this room, but this isn't really a competition -- unless you count the battle between the sort-of-healthy guy I am now and the really healthy guy I'd like to become.

Of course I didn't do any stretching to speak of last night at the gym (see previous post). I mean, I did sort of stretch my calves and hamstrings before I revved up the treadmill, but you're supposed to do that after your muscles warm up a little. Anyway, because I've been off my walking routine for a few days, I thought I'd see how the knee responded to a little more ambitious ambulatory activity.

I don't much like treadmills, to be perfectly frank. They give you lots of good information about speed and time and heart rate and calories burned, but they always seem to be more in control of my workout than I am. Plus, I'm constantly worried about striding off to one side and finding myself quite suddenly flung to the floor. (Is there such a thing as treadmill vertigo?)

Nonetheless, I cranked up the machine and did some walking at a moderate speed for about six or seven minutes before attempting a bit of jogging -- which always serves to remind me how much I hate running. I read about folks who live for their daily run, people who just kind of lapse into a pleasant meditative state as they stride along their chosen route. I've never been one of those people.

I remember running cross country in junior high and the utter pain and exhaustion that accompanied every stride -- lungs burning, legs aching, stomach churning. And though I've done a little bit of jogging in the years since then, it's never been my favorite activity. I think I managed to keep a 5 m.p.h. pace for five or six minutes last night before I felt a little light-headed and way too exhausted than I should have felt (hydration anyone?). So I dialed down the speed and got back into a walking gait. I did run for another couple of minutes toward the end of my 25 minutes on the machine, but it never quite felt comfortable.

This is a little disconcerting, because I know how my heart rate ratchets up in a healthy way when I run. And if my knee isn't bothering me, it's really something I should focus on in my workouts. (Also, because it's difficult, I assume it's good for me, right?) Not necessarily, says Bess Marcus. The director of physical activity research at Brown University Medical School notes that there are a variety of activities the running-averse can turn to for aerobic exercise. In an EL story from Jan./Feb. 2005, she lists walking, cycling, swimming, wall climbing, stair stepping, elliptical training, rowing and even jumping rope as great alternatives to running.

It's all part of a fitness philosophy that encourages people to do stuff they enjoy rather than stuff they figure they need to suffer through. That's the only way you'll sustain a workout regimen over the long term, she says.

It's a good reminder. I'm all for enjoyment, so I'll get back to my walking commute (the arctic cold wave is said to be ending today), and next time I'm at the gym I'll get back on the bike or maybe even try that elliptical thing. Anything's better than running.

In the fall of 1998, I blew out my right knee playing basketball. I remember the occasion because it happened around the same time that Minnesota Vikings quarterback Randall Cunningham sustained a similar injury. Cunningham was back in the lineup six days after his operation; I didn't get back on the court for six months.

I mention this because yesterday I noticed some stiffness in the back of my left knee after my walk. It's uncomfortably similar to the pain I recall feeling behind my right knee back in '98. I'm much more aware of my physical limitations these days than I was 10 years ago, so when I went to the gym last night I opted for a relatively easy 10-minute ride on the stationary bike, rather than my usual 25-minute sprint. This seemed to loosen up the knee a bit and allowed me to grunt my way through 30 minutes with the resistance machinery with no evident pain (in the knee, anyway).

Because I seldom really run anymore, I don't see how I could have "runner's knee" -- can you overpronate when you walk? And, indeed, when I take the test at coolrunning.com, it appears whatever aches and pains I'm experiencing are not in that category. My guess is that I'm simply not stretching properly after my walk. It's something I struggle with at the gym, as well. I just don't take the time to do it -- partly because there isn't a lot of room at the club for stretching and partly because I've never really known how to do it very well. (Hence my embarrassing lack of flexibility.)

But it seems that if I'm going to keep up my walking regimen, which I really enjoy, I'm going to have to find a way to work stretching into my routine, as well.

That nasty northwest wind I mentioned yesterday was out in force this morning, knifing through my corduroys like a hundred icy daggers. Of course, like a good Minnesotan, I just put my head down and pushed on through. Not a day to admire the landscape.

Still, I couldn't help noticing today that, no matter the temperature, my body's furnace starts to kick in around the same point in my walk -- always about halfway through the park, about 15 minutes into the journey. And, from that point on, my body begins to relax against the elements, my muscles loosen up, and I can feel the heat begin to rise from inside my jacket.

On above-zero days, this is usually where my hat comes off and my scarf gets unwound from my neck (too cold today for that luxury). So, I'm wondering: What exactly is going on inside of me that makes this happen at exactly the same point in my journey every day?

I'm no fitness expert, but it appears that what I'm experiencing is your basic warm-up regimen. As Kermit Pattison explains it in a March 2007 EL story, that 15 minutes of brisk walking is simply priming my body for a more rigorous workout. It increases blood flow, muscle metabolism and aerobic-energy production -- all of which raises my body's temperature by two or three degrees.

And because my morning walk always takes me on the same route at the same pace, I'm guessing that my body's furnace is going to kick in at pretty much the same place every day, no matter how cold it is. In a proper fitness regimen, I suppose I'd begin jogging at that point -- rip off that last mile and a quarter in seven minutes and arrive at the office bathed in sweat, my computer case hanging precariously from my heaving shoulder, happily primed for a day of energetic wordsmithing. Or, maybe not.

I guess I'd rather walk. And quietly appreciate the way my body's engine warms me on even the coldest January morning. I'll save the sweaty stuff for the gym tonight.

I've been a pretty faithful bicycle commuter for the past 30-some years. But, when the first big snow falls here in the Twin Cities, I typically park my bicycle in the garage and rely on the automobile to get to work. I've taken enough spills on the ice over the years to convince me that it's the most prudent approach. Usually, I'm back on the road by April.

This year, the first snow began piling up in late November, but owing to my new commitment to fitness -- and the relative proximity of our new St. Paul offices to my South Minneapolis home -- I've been walking to and from work on a semi-regular basis. The two-and-a-half-mile jaunt takes me past Minneapolis's only light rail line, through pastoral Minnehaha Park (above, during warmer times) and across the graceful Ford Bridge (which spans the Mississippi River, overlooking the Ford Dam, which powers -- you guessed it -- the Ford auto plant) in St. Paul.

The whole trip takes about 35 minutes from door to door and, while it can be pretty bracing when the mercury dips below zero (as it did yesterday morning), it's about the most invigorating morning exercise I can imagine. One thing I've learned about my aging carcass in the past year is how little my bicycle riding actually works my body. Yeah, my quads and hamstrings are OK (though not exactly supple), and I get the sense that some parts of my upper body benefit from my pedaling, but the first time I jumped on the treadmill at the club I could tell that nothing I had been doing on my bike had really prepared me for running -- or even walking. My calves were seizing up, my knees were throbbing and my feet were barking.

Since I began walking regularly, though, I can feel those muscles rounding into shape a little bit. Plus, when the temperature allows me to free my mittened hands from my pockets, my arms can get to swinging in a way that feels pretty productive. Cycling aficionados argue that their activity is a better cardio workout (especially if you're going uphill), and they might be right. But at the speed I tend to ride during the non-ice seasons (less than 10 mph), I seldom find myself huffing and puffing (except on those damn hills or in the clutches of a 30 mph NW wind).

The folks at coolnurse.com calculate the calorie-burning potential of each mode of transport, and to my way of thinking it's pretty much a wash (walking: 61 calores per 10 minutes for an average-sized guy; cycling: 74). But I'm not really counting calories (yet); the whole walking thing is maybe as much psychological as it is physical. After years of opening a garage door and either climbing onto my bike or into my car to get to work, there's something really refreshing about simply slinging my bag over my shoulder, closing the front door behind me and just striding off to work pretty much unencumbered by the vagaries of a wheeled vehicle.

It helps, of course, that my route passes through a quiet residential neighborhood, a verdant park and over a majestic river. Research has indicated that simply being in nature can produce beneficial health outcomes. As Karen Olson points out in a June 2006 piece in EL, this walk in the woods can lower my blood pressure and bad cholesterol while boosting my immune system.

I'm a real sucker for a fitness program that's also practical (exercising while commuting really fits that bill), so this walking to work idea is probably one that I'll stick with for a while. It's not going to replace sweating on the treadmill or the stationary bike, but I'm guessing it'll keep me in the right frame of mind for those days when the gym is beckoning.

For most of my 56 years, I've considered myself to be a pretty fit guy -- athletic even. I played seven years of Little League baseball; ran cross-country in junior high, where I also made the baseball, basketball, football, and tennis teams; played park and rec hockey in high school and intramural basketball in the Air Force and later in college. For 20-some years, I led my team to victory in my family's annual Turkey Bowl touch football game. I've also been an avid, nearly year-round, bicycle commuter since the mid-1970s.

Now, that's not to say I'm doing one-handed pushups on the living room floor after dinner or running 10 miles before breakfast each morning. Since I blew out my knee playing in the old guy's basketball league 10 years ago, I haven't really been all that active. And, until about a year ago, I'd never set foot in a fitness club. Still, I feel pretty good, all things considered, and when I signed up recently for a session with a personal trainer at the Life Time Fitness club here in St. Paul, I expected that my "body-age assessment" would sustain my ego at a satisfactorily high level.

Josh, the PT guy, had spied me a week or so earlier getting tangled up in some pulley-type resistance machine and asked me if I was interested in setting a baseline for my workouts. I'd been frequenting the gym pretty regularly for more than 10 months at that point, so I figured it made some sense to see where I stood. On the treadmill, Josh had me walking at a brisk pace to check my VO2 capacity, the amount of oxygen I could process per minute, before testing my bicep strength, flexibility and body mass. I thought I did pretty well on all these tests -- except the flexibility stuff, which demonstrated why I'd been avoiding yoga all these years. But, when he totaled it all up and presented me with the results, I was pretty shocked:
Body Mass Index: About average
Cardiovascular - Max VO2: Fair
Bicep Strength: Average
Sit and Reach: Poor
Body Composition: Moderate
Overall Fitness: Average
Body Age: 58

Josh was very professional and knowledgeable and all that, but 58!?!? I refrained from asking him whether his computer needed to be recalibrated. I didn't ask for a recount. But, I felt a little like Al Gore in 2000. I wanted to see if there were any hanging chads that might nudge that number a little bit toward more favorable territory. That was clearly not going to happen, though Josh did send me home with a prescription for dialing that number back by 12 years in only 12 weeks.

Would I be willing to commit to a serious exercise and nutrition regiment? Could I marshal my old athletic passions for another push toward some sustainable, long-term fitness goals? Was it time to finally wash those ripe gym shorts in my bag?

These questions and more I'll endeavor to answer in the weeks and months ahead as I chronicle my adventures in the frightening world of middle-age exercise. I'll welcome your comments as I move through this slightly intimidating chapter of my life. Maybe you've been through this yourself, or are considering it. Together, maybe we'll all survive with our egos -- and hamstrings -- intact.