A Few Things I've Learned from a Chair on Wheels or Crutches

The whole thought of having two metatarsals sawed off and re-screwed down was not appealing. But neither was hobbling in pain on one foot day in and out. According to my new podiatrist, two bones have grown too long, dropped below the fatty pad of my foot and consequently rubbed a callous on the bottom of my foot. My livelihood stands on my feet and so do most things I enjoy. No choice here.

With that said, I was mentally prepared for the possibility of pain. I was not and am not mentally prepared for viewing the world from wheels on a chair or from crutches. It has been a dismal and frustrating perspective.

I have a new found empathy and respect for those wheelchair/crutch bound. It doesn't matter how much you mentally want to do something, if your body won't allow, it just won't allow. Wishes don't count.

Here's a short list of a few other things I've learned:

You have to eat like a bird or be as large as a barge. Physical restraint leads to weight gain. I've done my own physical therapy (yoga and massage), and it does little to elevate my heart rate to a fat burning level.

Organization is key. Most things I reach for are at the other end of the house or two inches beyond my grasp. This experience gives new impetus to get my house in order. Extra steps means extra time and extra energy. In fact, I think there should be whole new branch of organization created; "What Would I Do if I Were in a Wheelchair" philosophy?

I have new goggles for viewing those I meet who are overweight and with physical limitations. It is a situation that takes no prisoners. It's viscous. And someone with the know-how needs to reach out to these folks with a few physical conditioning/training options, if any exist.

I will never underestimate the power of friendship and empathy. My friends have helped me through this: subbing in my classes, grading papers while I am under the influence of pain meds, preparing food, phoning for foot checks, bringing food, sending pizza cash for my big boys, or just being there with an sympathetic ear.

Certainly not least on my short list, is the shame I feel for not being there for my own friends and family when they were in similar situations. My philosophy: someone else is better at this "caring thing" than I am. Let them do it. Shame on me. Every drop of care in the bucket counts.

With that being said, I stand grateful for the long arm of friendship and grateful for the perspective this experience has given. And even after I am once again standing on two feet, I stand thankful for so much.

On The Cycling Road to Damascus

For the last six weeks, preparing myself for long distance bike rides has become a religion, calling me, testifying that I'm not as young as I used to be, witnessing that I can withstand the heat, and baptizing me in sweat drenched clothes. I've had an epiphany: exercise and fitness has to be nothing less than a religion, a commitment.

Since latter May, no question about it, my legs are testament to gaining strength climbing hills that were near an impossibility a month ago. It's been a slow climb, a slow build. If I want to ride the big boy/girl rides, it will not happen as instantaneously as making Kool-Aid. You gotta do your time.

I'm now up to a ten mile comfortable ride at a 15 mph pace. By August 1st, the ride pimps to 25 miles, pace of my choice, for Greenwood's Bicycles, Bayous, and Blues ride through the Delta. Nearing the half century mark in age, my body wants to wink as the offering plate of old age nears.

Cycling as religion calls for prayer: my body prays for forgiveness as the spokes turn for the years of food abuse and cardio neglect, for the years of not moving at all. Nothing. You must have faith that there's something better for your body to subject to heat and hills everyday.

As a society, yes I am guilty, too, we have become obsessed with comfort and ease of life. This feeling of entitlement to absolute comfort, the it should be easy, make it no-sweat easy, we are technologically advanced so that life should be effortless ideology, has found too many of us in poor physical condition, fat, and with medical issues out the wazoo.

When the bike rubber meets the road to Damascus, exercise takes on multi-dimensional benefits: improved quality of life, better cardio health, increased strength and flexibility, and stress relief. I'm a believer.

Pray for me. Pray for my ride.

My Exercise Lineage

I come from a long line of naysayer exercise anti-enthusiasts. I have heard it all from my elders: Tennis - - "It's a phase. It'll pass. Don't quit your day job." Swimming - - "You'll burn to a crisp." The gym - - "You'll waste gas getting over there." And now, cycling - - "You'll break something, like a bone. Isn't that expensive? I'd hate to know I had to wag a bike around with me everywhere I go. Say, that bike rack looks like a wheelchair lift stuck on the back of your car."

It's accurate; I have tried several forms of fitness. The big BUT of it is: Cycling is the first time exercise doesn't feel like monotonous, brainless, sweat-generating exercise. Cycling has this restorative power over me.

It seems my family has generation old recipes for things like Mile High Peanut Butter Cookies and Can't Leave 'Em Alone Bars, yet no recipes for fitness. Unfortunately, this family needs it. I love them, but they need it, and their gut says they need it.

For weeks I've tread through doubting familial looks which announcing "I want to do long distance fitness team rides," will get you in a herd of expanding girths. No one really cheers or comments as if I'd turned out a good cheesecake this time.

But that's okay. I'm trying to keep the doubling chin up: I want something different for my grandchildren. I want a "Wow, my cougar-grandma can sure spin a wheel." Instead of, "Did you use real mayo in that dish?"

My schedule now includes a moderate bike training routine. Everyday, except one, in the saddle I'm working at 70 percent of my maximum heart rate. I'm throwing in a little weight training and yoga just to spice it up a bit. And here's a research tip for recovery time after exercise - - milk.

Just to feed the info appetite - - Researchers at the American College of Sports Medicine found a glass of low-fat chocolate milk was more effective in muscle recovery after intense workouts as expensive high carbohydrate energy drinks. A shot of plain skim milk has my vote.

As for my family, while they sit at the post-feast table at our next get together, too full to lift a finger for dessert until something settles, I'll be out hitting the log trails straddling a bike, trying not 'to break something.'