Tag Archives: exercise

I am Cautious

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I am cautious. I ride a low bike so that when I stop my feet reach the ground. This is reminiscent of my old banana seat bicycle in the 70’s with the purple handle bar streamers. It was comfortable because of its lack of height and its smooth, plastic seat. I was a proud rider on the streets of Haddontown, Kresson Heights, Brookfield and Woodcrest, riding my modern bike in my bright red keds.

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This past week I braved the New York Streets to take my bike out for the third time this summer. I was halfway to my destination, Central Park, when I realized the traffic was too thick. Cars and trucks were double parked. I am not that adventurous. I am cautious. So, at Third Avenue I turned around and headed for the promenade on the East River. When I get to the park I ride to the crosswalk because I can avoid riding up on the curb. I like a flat ride, no bumps. That’s not easy in New York, so I do what I can.

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It wasn’t very crowded. It was Tuesday, and some had just started back to work, while others were just getting back from their Labor Day getaways. I rode as if I were a child, gleeful to have the promenade virtually to myself. I ring my high-pitched bell when the few people walking are four wide and there’s no place for me to go. They part and I move on, happy I didn’t have to stop. I am in heaven. There’s something so sweet about moving in space, especially when I know at any given moment my feet can touch the ground.

 

Slowing Down

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This past week I had jury duty. My first reaction was one of annoyance.   I’ve done a lot of jury duty, even one stint for three months. So as far as I was concerned, I’ve done my time. But then I thought again. It’s an enforced day of quiet. I promptly changed my schedule around and planned my reading accordingly. First were some back issues of The New Yorker. Then, much to my delight I was going to be able to read Paul Lisicky’s The Narrow Door. The book came out the day prior to having to serve and I made sure I had my copy.

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Years ago when I walked downtown to the courthouses, just north of the Brooklyn Bridge, I had a clipped pace and could make the five-mile trek in 90 minutes. But this time it took me 110 minutes. 20 minutes longer than in the past. It wasn’t the cold weather. I walked throughout the winter in the long trial. Though cold and windy, I enjoyed the empty sidewalks allowing me to walk with ease. Perhaps the 20 minutes isn’t so bad given it was 20 years ago when I moved quicker, getting to my destination with time to spare. But I did notice I’m losing some stamina.

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I enjoy walking just as much as I did in the past, but I’m slower, tending to walk shorter paths. 20 years ago I’d walk to and from 100 Centre Street, last week one way was more than enough. I also started noticing that I’m doing less outside of work. I’ve always been a busy person, mainly pursuing the arts such as exhibits, theater, films, and the occasional dance performance or opera. Now I’m more selective, finding I prefer to rest more.

I guess I couldn’t keep up with my previous pace. And, I suppose I don’t have to. Losing a minute a year for a five-mile walk allows me to enjoy more of the scenery on the way.

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Something Different

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I can be a solitary person. I like my alone time. I like to figure things out on my own and I like doing things by myself. But I learned something new about myself today while running my first race in awhile. I resist change. In the past I was happy to be a solo runner. I am a very slow runner, mindful of my age and the wear and tear my body has endured. I was pleased to be running at all, and it took me a couple of years to run even one race.   Then I ran one run, uncertain of the shouts and cheers the volunteers provided. They meant well, but I liked going at my own pace, listening to a book or a podcast, enjoying beautiful Central Park.

Today for the first time I ran with a partner. Zena, my husband Larry’s cousin, asked if I would meet her to run, and I said I would. She has been a wonderfully encouraging supporter of my running. She runs in Chicago, as well as around the world when she’s traveling for work. So today I ran alongside her. We talked, and she asked how I felt about run/walking. My friend Jeannette, another supporter and avid runner suggested it last week, but I said I wasn’t sure. Clearly they both knew something I didn’t.

The four-mile run today was set to Zena’s clock so we could run nine minutes and walk one minute. I was afraid that if I stopped running I wouldn’t want to start again. But it was a great way to pace the run and feel rejuvenated and motivated. I have always thought myself someone who is open to change, but today seemed more of an exception than the rule. I really enjoyed having a running partner, and I liked the walk run process. I’ll be doing it again. Plus, I may need a good running trainer. As much as I like to do things myself, getting proper support is invaluable. Or so I recognized today.

So, between Zena & Jeannette, my running support, and Larry, as well as our friend, Justine, my cheering squad, along with our dogs, Lucy & Nyah, this run was truly delightful.

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I Did It!

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I’m 54 years old, I have a torn meniscus, pleural effusion, tendonitus, and I completed a half marathon today.  I love walking but never thought I could run. Thanks to my friend Lisa, who told me I could run slowly, really a jog, so I tried it out and found that I could jog slowly.  I started running at the age of 51.  I ran around the block, then a half mile, then a mile.  I always felt like I accomplished something doing these runs.  Little by little I challenged myself to jog longer, always slowly.  I would have people pass me on a regular basis.  At first this was difficult.  I can be competitive.  With three siblings, it was a survival tool growing up.   So doing this for me and not trying to keep up with other runners might have been a bigger challenge than the exercise aspect of the sport.  I ran my first races the past year.  In the Fall, I ran a 5K, then a 5 mile.  The five kilometers was not that difficult.  I had been jogging regularly and was prepared to be one of the last runners.  It was a less popular run, so there wasn’t a big a crowd, which I liked.  The following day I ran my first NYRR race in Central Park.  There were a lot more serious runners.  Volunteers often shouted out to go faster.  I ignored their encouragement.  For me the running is not about the time, it’s about doing it.  On New Years eve, I did the four mile Central Park Race  at midnight.  It was fun starting off with fireworks.  I have been inspired by friends and family who are runners like my writing classmate, Jeannette, who made sure I had energy snacks for the today’s race, and gave me good tips on self care.  Larry’s cousin, Zena, is a runner and she put the idea in my mind when she said she was training for a half marathon.  I’m so fortunate to live in a city with a lot of opportunities to run.   And, I’m lucky to have friends and family who are supportive.  Larry was out early with Lucy and they were my cheering squad.  The cheered me on twice around the park, and then at the finish line.  It really helped me to keep going.  It feels good to do something for myself.  My body is sore,and I’m exhausted,  but I’m proud to have completed the half marathon.  In the end, slow and steady won my race.

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Larry & Lucy Cheering Me on In Central Park

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Larry’s picture of me running slowly & really happy to see him

 

First Race

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I was 11 years old.  In the back of our school in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, in 1971, I ran the 900-yard dash.  On the dirt around the playground I pushed myself as I ran as fast as I could.  Again and again my classmates past me, even tough my mouth was dry, my chest was tight, and the left side of my abdomen was in a knot.  I had on my red Keds.  They were not serving me well.  Three classmates were behind me when I reached the finish line. There was little pleasure in that. 

            I knew I was not a runner.  I took this knowledge with me for a long time.  I liked to walk and I enjoyed walking for miles in the city, my favorite mode of transportation.  Often joggers passed me by, and I looked at them as if they were another species.  Friends of mine would speak of their runs, their races, their ability to go miles in any type of weather.  Not me, I just walked. 

            And, then two years ago I tried to run.  A friend suggested I could run a slow pace, so that I could be gentle on knees, and not hurt my lungs.  It worked.  As 70 year old runners passed me by, I started out jogging a quarter mile, a half, and then one full mile.  It felt great.  I liked it.  I could do something I never thought I could do. 

And, then this past weekend, I ran my first races.  Yesterday I walked to Randall’s Island and slowly but surely ran the 5K, or 3.3 miles.  Because I am so slow, I had a lot of space between me and the next runner.  I happily passed walkers, but wasn’t even close the other runners.  I didn’t care.  This was for me, and I could put one foot in front of the other towards the finish line. 

It felt good to complete the race.  Larry, my husband, and Lucy our Tibetan Terrier were there to cheer me on coming an going.  It was so nice to have them there.  And, today I was in Central Park to run a five-mile race.  I don’t know my time.  I didn’t even bother to find out.  For me, the fact that I was there was enough.  I have no designs on a marathon.  Being able to run at all is a win for me. Image