NEVER IN MY LIFE did I imagine that I would ever turn into one of those people who get antsy when they haven’t run for a few days.
But last winter, not long into the new year, recognizing that my sloth wasn’t doing me any favors, I downloaded a couch-to-5K app and began training. A back injury a few years prior had forced me to give up running, but time and a few well-placed spinal injections of steroids had me feeling better. It was time to try again.
I followed the couch-to-5K program rigorously, and two months after starting, I was running three miles. Over the spring and summer and autumn and into the current winter, I tried to get out every other day; I haven’t gotten there yet, but it’s been frequent enough for me to enjoy the benefits.
Up until yesterday, 2018 was brutally, dangerously cold in Greater Philadelphia (as you may have heard). I ran New Year’s Eve and then had to skip nine straight days.
And I found myself — yep — one of those people who get antsy when they haven’t run for a few days.
Finally, this morning, came enough warmth — well, more like “warmth”; it was about 20 when I got up — to lace ’em up and hit the road. It was glorious. My legs felt fine and my wind was great. It wasn’t until I got home that I noticed a hint of achiness in my quads, the result, I suspect, of nine days of inactivity.
They’re still a touch sore, six hours later. But it’s a soreness that hurts so good. | DL
IF YOU WANT to get an idea of what it feels like for a whale to get harpooned, I suggest you herniate a disc in your lower back so severely that an anesthesiologist has to insert a needle into your spine and inject a dose of steroids in hopes of reducing the inflammation. Twice in the last month I’ve undergone such a procedure, and in each case my mind flashed immediately to Melville.
THINGS WERE proceeding smoothly, until suddenly they weren’t. Everything blew up.
Work exploded, as the calendar moved into my department’s busiest time of the year and we took on a major new project on top of our usual other duties.
Home exploded, as the girls added play rehearsal and spring sports to their already lengthy litany of activities, as I tacked t-ball coaching to my bulletin board of commitments, and as J. and I delved further into the planning stages of a big-time renovation initiative.
And I exploded, as months of wintertime consumption and hibernation had me feeling heavy and dull, my clothes uncomfortable and my body looking decidedly middle-aged.
YOU FINISH your list yet?
If not, you don’t have much time. It is the 31st, after all. If you don’t figure out how to be a better you in the next 15 hours or so, you’ll have to spend the next year as the current, subpar you.
Then again, if you’re like me, you can make it easy by recycling past years’ resolutions. My annual late-December self-reflection tends to yield the same goals: Continue reading
IF THERE is any advantage to losing a week in December to an illness that knocks you on your ass, it is that you are forced to slow down and take everything easy. You simply lack the capacity to do anything else.
I’m still playing catch-up on sleep, and because my strep-ravaged throat made swallowing a new adventure in pain, I haven’t eaten much over the last couple of weeks. As a result, I have lacked the energy to over-exert myself, as well as overindulge. Last night I drank all of two beers, the most I’d consumed in a fortnight. It’s hard to envision wanting to have more than that at any point in the near future. Continue reading
EVERYONE KNOWS how difficult it is to maintain healthy habits over the holidays. Parties abound, and overindulgence is practically expected. We tell ourselves that things will change in January, that we’ll right the ship and get to the gym and all that, so we may as well get our calories’ worth in December.
Well, what if I told you I had a sure-fire way to lose weight during the holiday season? With no fancy diets, no expensive workout equipment, no tracking of foods?
Today, friends, is your lucky day.
My last drink was a Varsity Hop Devil draft, consumed with a friend at a local watering hole as a celebratory conclusion to Father’s Day.
The five-week abstinence in which I have engaged since then is a significant factor in my slowly shrinking stomach. But that wasn’t my sole reason to cease tippling for a while.