A Chill in the Air
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There's a chill in the air. I knew it would happen; we all knew it would happen. It always happens. Fall has arrived.
The fall is good. The gold and orange trees are pretty. I like the fall. There are at least two days in the season during which I take a deep breath, roll my collar up, put my hands deep in my pockets, shake off the chill and say amid billows of evaporating breath, "This is fun." I then turn my back to the wind and head for the nearest shelter.
Goodbye tan, goodbye short sleeves, goodbye imperceptibly improved definition and skin tone. Hello cold, wet and ugly.
Yes, I know some of you live in regions of the world where the summer is just beginning... not my problem. (It'll probably be rainy, hot and sticky with lots of bugs.)
Draper's groaning again. You'd think after all these years he'd get used to it... adapt... enjoy... appreciate... grow up. Fall and its big brother, winter, are robust times of the year offering its beneficiaries variety and challenge.
Yeah, like curling in the snow, sub-zero bench pressing, squatting in a down-quilted overcoat. Swell.
Okay. I feel better now. I've expressed myself, I've gotten it off my chest, I've lightened the load, I'm good.
Speaking of lightening the load, maybe we won't bulk up this year. As bombers come in every gender, shape and size, including plump and less-than-svelte, some are asking who in their right mind would want to bulk up -- focus on gaining weight, force-feed, intentionally increase calories, never skip a meal, add a gallon of milk and a dozen eggs to their diets, look forward to growing out of their clothes and cry out YES when the scale nudges upward a pound.
Bulking can be fun and worthwhile, but it's a lot of work and extra cargo when you're lookin' and runnin' like an old pickup truck. We should be thinking about mileage as we get older -- what's the most we can get from this bomber and how long can we keep it rumbling along.
Sometimes I wonder if I was contributing to my health, strength and long life by training with nutso intensity, or was I wearing myself out. Did the take-it-to-the-edge workouts add to my years of mighty service or did they threaten my structure and system, my existence?
The heart does some heavy pounding and the joints are under severe directional overload. The organs are juggling assorted large obstacles while standing on one foot and whistling the requiem for a heavyweight. Maybe we should cool it.
Another thing: perhaps I should refrain from counseling others -- that is, keep my big mouth shut and not offer my faithful flying companions my rash, egotistical training opinions.
These are hard decisions: how, when and where to lighten the training load when all that you've practiced and understood is dive-bombing.
Perhaps dropping 10 percent of bodyweight would be smart, less work for the heart. This is good. The entire system, in fact, would be relieved of toil and heavy use, less food intake, less processing and lower metabolic demand. Every organ, valve, passageway, joint, tendon and ligament might be alleviated of stress and strain. The muscles would no longer bear an overload and would no longer need to be large and dense to accommodate consistent and vigorous output.
Something about the last statement causes my heart to skip a beat, an unhealthy occurrence in itself.
Lighter people can run farther and more efficiently. You could get new clothes and wouldn't have to hold your gut in. No more eating when you don't want to...or else. Oddballs would be less likely to ask if you lift weights or how much you can bench.
Lighter people with diminishing goals don't have to exercise as hard. You could walk into the gym and lift half the weight for half the time and probably maintain your newly acquired pounds with half the discipline and half the hard work.
Gulp.
That's the way it is with guys and gals who decide it's time to throw in their belt and straps -- to let go of the tiger's tail, to trade daring for caution, to walk the narrow walk and talk the narrow talk, to give up.
There's the other scenario. Aging causes some of us to put our priorities in order and we drop the bodyweight and lifting intensity to satisfy the logic of health and longevity. Diversions fill our spare space and we gain weight while no one's standing guard.
The plan is simple: Drop the bodyweight, diminish the muscle mass, ease the load on the muscles and structure and system by moderating the workouts, lessening the stress of training demands, training goals and expectations.
I'll tell you what's wrong, though: The whole idea of dropping bodyweight and decreasing the training load feels wrong. I can't stand the thought of it and maybe you can't either.
Look to yourself and determine the toughest road you can travel without breaking an axle or blowing the engine. If the road isn't tough, the road isn't going anywhere.
I believe we're all on the right course of action. It's the lattermost word right there -- action -- that suggests we are. Whether young (teens and 20-some -- I do not forget your vital presence), or new (any age and just snooping about the metal) or around since the first mining of iron ore (got years and muscles, aches and pains), we're here, in action, reading, asking, learning, lifting, growing, attentively observing, painfully doubting, wisely adjusting and valiantly persevering.
We press on. Something hurts, we assess it curiously and work around it. We lift and learn.
An old trick or a new trick catches our eye and we give it our best. It carries us forward another month, entertains us and provides renewed interest and hope. Another lesson learned -- valuable time invested. We ponder our worth and the worth of our deeds and the worth of life, and we return to the gym, and its provisions and breathing and priceless pain and awesome teaching.
Not infrequently, the way is clear; we gain speed, catch some air and we're off the ground -- flying. Once you're flying, the sky's the limit.
On a good day you can see forever... DD
*****
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