I pull on tri-color, striped, boxer shorts from Wal-Mart, pick up two, one-and-a-half-kg weights—one for each hand—tug up a support cuff over my right knee, above which is an eight-inch titanium plate in my thigh, set the digital timer for ten minutes, and step out rapidly.
When my close friend said he thought I needed to get my heart rate up, I listened, as his last few comments, made over several months—to straighten my shoulders, take time to meditate, remember conscious breathing, do a little yoga, and put on weight—had been helpful.
Initially, the fast walking was to increase my heartbeat rate, but there was a surprise.
From a bird’s eye view, my home looks like a rectangle with a “prow” on front—as on a boat. My bedroom has an angled wall shared with the hall to the second bedroom; and there is a core—open from the south-end kitchen to the north-end living room—with stairs, a utility room, and the hall off of it. When the young architect asked what I required, I’d said I wanted to feel that I was walking somewhere going from room to room—and I do.
Wearing a mile marker on my “route,” I begin in my twenty-two foot-long bedroom, cross to the utility room, reverse to the hall and second bedroom, turn to go left into the kitchen, then straightaway to the living room, circle the timer, and return to my bedroom—for six tenths of a mile. Walking twice a day, I sweat, surprised to be happy and smiling!
My realization is, “Aging is an attitude of “I can” and “I can’t” or “I will” and “I won’t” with the opportunity to invent our practice and style within new boundaries that may offer unexpected accomplishments and joy.”