With a title like that, I fully understand if you have an urge to hit the delete key. You endured a Health Tip a few years ago about my colonic, and I do applaud your strength for that. But now, having read in American Medical News that the U.S. is the 17th unhealthiest among 17 wealthiest nations a situation caused by obesity, lack of exercise, and lack of access to health care, I sense there’s an opportunity for me to do some serious badgering while you’re enjoying your venti white chocolate mocha (580 cal.) and almond croissant (510 cal.).
Since the article was directed to physicians, there were some (pretty lame) suggestions about what the profession could do to “advocate for wellness.” Leaving colorful brochures for patients to read and take home, one doctor’s idea of supporting good health, is unlikely to affect longevity. After decades as a primary care physician, I can attest that when a doctor hands a patient instructions with suggestions for weight loss, the only thing that’s usually lost are the instructions.
Not long ago I wrote a Health Tip on the supplements I take daily. As you may surmise, regular exercise is (a) definitely more challenging than swallowing supplements and (b) long proven to be truly beneficial in preventing chronic illness and promoting longevity. Supplements, useful as they are, simply can’t hold a candle to exercise.
After reading the grim statistics about our national health I said to myself, “By golly, I’m going to encourage readers by example.” Why not? If I, alter kocker (a Yiddish term for old man, literal translation unprintable) that I am, can exercise, then surely so can you! The much-revered Mayo Clinic recommends 150 minutes of moderate or 75 minutes of vigorous exercise each week. Here’s their article on the subject either to feel really guilty or really proud of yourself.
I’ve now been exercising regularly well over half my life. I know this because my wife pointed out that I’d started when I was 33. I was astonished she knew the exact number, but she said it was the same age that Jesus was crucified. I had not known this and didn’t get her point, but maybe she was expecting a less than favorable outcome of my venture.
I started to seriously exercise when I discovered I was getting badly out of breath on the rare occasion I raced up some stairs or ran to catch a bus. (Only 33, remember). Without exception, I had been bad at (and hated) all sports and played nothing except chess. I was also fat and my body image disorder issues were acting up. Time to change.
I joined a nearby health club and enrolled in an aerobics class, suddenly finding myself the only male in a class of women right-left step-kicking like the Radio City Rockettes. At best I lasted about ten minutes before nausea, lightheadedness, and breathlessness stopped me cold. My complexion had turned to the grey of my sweat suit. The instructor hand-signaled me to wait at the back of the class, showing me some simple stretches I could do until the session ended. Humiliation is an understatement.
However, I swallowed the teaspoon of remaining pride I had and persevered. Within a couple of months (at three times a week), I could actually keep up with the women. Even more remarkable perhaps is that within a year, this same instructor and I actually invested in two aerobic fitness studios together, and while they never made me a dime, I’ve never regretted the financial loss, as they say, I took out in trade, step kicking, etc., etc., five days a week.
If I can do it, so can you.
Move the calendar forward four decades or so, with a few changes in routine, and here’s my current program:
Up at 5:30 a.m. as I need coffee before anything. Three days a week, I do High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT) which I learned online from watching YouTube videos. I selected a 30-minute workout for a 50-year-old and it’s pretty tough.
The other four days, I either go to the health club and start with 45 minutes of high-resistance elliptical, followed by 15 minutes of weight training. Sixty minutes. Not one minute more, ever.
When weather allows (40 degrees F or higher), I replace the health club with a five-mile walk, using a pair of hiking poles. I used to jog but when I started feeling daily pain in knees and hips…you know the story.
I also try to walk everywhere. I used to bicycle, but the city streets simply became more demanding than my reflexes could handle. I didn’t want you to read a story beginning “Elderly doctor crushed…” so one day I simply gave my beloved bicycle away to a good home.
Useful hints learned over three decades:
If you’re a health club person, find a health club geographically nearby. Mine is halfway between my home and WholeHealth Chicago. If a piece of architecture is capable of inducing guilt, the Ray Meyer Fitness Center sneers its contempt if I’ve missed an exercise day.
Starting early in the day makes a real difference. If this isn’t possible for you, go immediately after work. Evening exercise can interfere with sleep.
Some readers may disagree with me on this one, though I suspect they’re already exercising regularly and enjoy it: accept the fact that exercise is intrinsically boring. Consider the original dictionary definition of “treadmill.” It was a “prison punishment,” and “a wearisome and monotonous routine.”
So, make your exercise routine interesting. Instead of listening to health club music (the musical version of a root canal), listen to your own music or an audiobook. Or, if you can manage while on an elliptical, read a book. It took three months of brisk walking for me to finish the audiobook of Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past, truly a wonderful experience. Take one of the terrific Great Courses. Change something basically dumb (walking on a treadmill) into something that will make you very smart. You’ll be able to impress your friends with phrases like “I’ve finally gotten the hang of postmodern theory by listening to lectures from this Harvard guy. Let me tell you all about Derrida!”
Go with a friend. You’ll have someone to keep you honest…and berate you when you don’t show up.
My only anxiety about all this exercise is that someday clinical research will discover (or I’ll learn in the afterlife) that exercise only extends your life the precise number of hours you’ve actually exercised and not one minute more.
“Let me see here…” St. Peter will say, stabbing at his calculator. “You’re saying you exercised five hours a week for 60 years. Hmm..I see plenty of four-hour weeks, even some threes.”
“Hey, not many of those” I argue. Peter checks his records. “What about vacations, and your hip surgery? You didn’t exercise then. Still, we’ve got you here at 10,400 hours of exercise. I’m impressed. Just to let you know, you received 433 extra days of life. Too bad you spent them being such an argumentative kvetch, misanthropic curmudgeon. If you were saintly, I’d have given you a 20% longevity bonus. Take Mother Teresa for example. Made it to 87 without a single day of exercise.”
“Are you telling me God keeps track of how many hours we exercise?”
“Yep.”
Oh, for Heaven’s sake, just…
Be well,
David Edelberg, MD