On Monday, I did something I've never done before. I went to the gym.
I've lived a pretty carefree life as far as my physical health goes. I've always been pretty lean, I walk a lot, I try to work in as many vegetables into a day as I can. Unfortunately, the cruel mistresses of caffeine and substantial portion sizes have had their way with me.
A number of factors contributed:
I graduated from school. No more constant running around and working, feverishly trying to accomplish the next task. It was like that during my days in the theater, as well. After graduation, I found myself doing something I hadn't done a lot of: sitting. I was reading, watching television, doing freelance jobs. No more constant movement or crazy schedules. I was sitting. And apparently, expanding.
I got happy. A new commitment to my mental health. A new fiancee. A new job. Lots of opportunities to celebrate with a huge steak or a giant cheeseburger or a couple of medium-rare lamb chops. Mmmmm, lamb chops.
I love coffee. Perhaps I missed that adrenaline rush of school. Perhaps it was the overlapping of freelance jobs. Perhaps I just have an addictive personality. Whatever happened, it happened — caffeine took me over. Several cups in the morning, two Cokes in the afternoon, sometimes a Coke at night. Not much really, but enough.
I quit smoking. At least I cared enough about my health to do that, but quitting surely contributed to the portion sizes.
Not that I cared, mind you. I could tell my gut was growing a bit, but so did my hairline recede. Aging, I figured. Normal. Nothing to worry about.
November, I started feeling some little pains in my chest. Seriously, no big deal. Just felt like a muscle ache, something about the way I sit. I don't know. Nothing to worry about. Soon, though, I had to worry about it.
I was walking north on Michigan Avenue, slightly blustery day, and my chest seized up. Hurt like nothing else I'd ever felt. Knocked the wind right out of me, not to mention scared the crap out of me. When your chest seizes up, what else do you think of but your heart?
The doctor tells me it's probably just acid reflux. However, I've put on weight, I did smoke for a number of years, and there's some heart disease in my family, so it very well could be my heart. They did an EKG, and wouldn't you know? Slightly irregular. Not so irregular that they were worried – it'd be a normal EKG for someone without my history – but enough to send me out for a stress test.
The stress test, I'll admit, was kind of fun. It's like the opening credits of the
Six-Million Dollar Man, only slower and with a lot more gasping. Fortunately, the stress test told me my heart was fine. It also told me, considering how sore I was afterwards, that I'm totally out of shape.
Follow-up visits and conversations with my doctor:
You have acid reflux, so take an acid blocker for a month, avoid spicy foods and acid-y fruits like citrus or tomatoes, and cut back on the caffeine. You've put on a lot of weight in a short amount of time, so let's try to lose ten pounds. You have high cholesterol – 210, not too high but high – so eat more fiber and get that down. Make a commitment now to never drink another soda for the rest of your life. And for God's sake, man, get up and walk around every once in a while.At least my heart's not failing. That's lucky.
Now here we are, and for the first time in my life, I'm forced to take a sharp look at my physical health. Watching portion sizes and ingredients, having one cup of coffee in the morning with skim milk and Splenda, eating a bowl of oatmeal for every breakfast. I'm even going take Metamucil, if you can believe that. I'm only 32 years old, and while that's pretty young to, you know, start taking Metamucil, I guess it's not to late to start taking better care of my body.
Thus, to the gym. Monday night, my fiancee and I went to the Ballys where she is a member with the intention of taking a step toward fitness. I had thoughts of walking into a room full of ripped men and women judging me, slipping and falling on an unfamiliar machine. I was intimidated and uncomfortable.
Then I spent 35 minutes on a crosstrainer, and wouldn't you know – I liked it. Once you get past the excruciating pain, your whole body goes kind of numb. Then you get lightheaded. The world around you disappears. Your mind shuts off, only letting in enough information to do the workout. It was better than any drug; not only did the workout open an elated door of perception, it was good for me.
Last year was about
my mental health. This year is about my physical health, which should do wonders for my mental health, as well.
So stop reading this blog and get off your ass. Or just post a snarky anonymous comment – I know that's the most I can get out of you.
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