Walkers (not zimmers, people!)

[Previously posted elsewhere]
Professor Morano shared several entries from "My Vegetable Love: A Journal of a Growing Season" by Carl H. Klaus with her graduate class in the Personal Essay. They made quite an impression on me.

I've been thinking a lot about the concept as it might apply to the aftermath of my heart attack. Of course, if I was going to start a daily journal about the experience of recovery I'm just a tad late in starting, about three months late! That said, the idea of sucking meaning from even the smallest but peculiar occurence or revelation on a day-by-day basis still appeals to me.

For instance, the neighborhood in which I live has never had sidewalks (nor curbs for that matter). So everyone walks in the street including the kids on their way to the grammar school nearby. I'm more aware of streetwalkers now that I've become one. Our street goes west for one block then curves into a tiny street only to curve again back toward the main street. Similar to a cul de sac only longer and with a short exit in the middle. I trudge around this horseshoe generally once a day in the early morning. Happy to report the trudging pace has picked up as I walk more often and for longer periods. I've even added other neighborhoods and parks just to relieve the boredom.

Once I started going out at different times and to less familar places, I noticed more and more solitary folks striding their way in a determined fashion even in the August heat. Only a couple of times have I seen two women walking together, although charging up the sidewalk would be a more accurate description. For the most part it is a single individual pacing along his or her set path.And no, they're not all walkers, some are bike riders. One lady tickles me because of the huge purse she has strapped across her as she rides. I'm not sure what she could possibly have in it that she might need on her ride. . .. I'm glad that she's riding. I root for her and inwardly applaud her effort, but she doesn't wear a helmet and that bothers me. There's also a guy who rides against traffic and I worry a bit about him but when I start riding again I will do the same.

We have much in common, these other older streetwalkers and bike riders. For instance we don't stop to sniff the flowers because it would throw us off our pace. We do, however, speak to everyone we pass even if they're just putting out the garbage in the dim light before dawn. I have a theory about why we greet each other particularly (we're so easy to spot!) as well as anyone else who's in the vicinity, but I'll have to hold that thought for next time.

New Target Heart Rate

It's official. I have a new target heart rate as of this morning. The range is 136-152. 136 being 75% of my capacity and 152 being 80%. So if my calculations are correct, my max is 190. Is that right?

Did It Again

Okay, so I'm walking my fanny off on the treadmill this morning - bit more incline, faster speed. (Rehab is nothing if not challenging!) I called for my heart rate. (There is always one person stationed at the desk watching all our info on the monitors.) Back comes the number 148.

I'm hard of hearing but I was pretty sure that's what she said. But since it was only 10 points below my max rate, I checked that I had gotten it right. Sure enough.

Here's the scary part: the tech/nurse/physiologist (don't know what she is, sorry) said to me, "Is that high?"

Well, please, you're the authority, aren't you? Isn't it your job to keep me out of trouble? She quickly followed up with, "You're not having chest pain, etc., etc."

I was okay then and I'm okay now, but I wish I knew what going on. It appears that my max rate is really bogus. So do we just keep on, keeping on as long as it doesn't hurt? Ah me.

Mid-Rehab Stress Test

On Monday I took a stress test on the treadmill at my cardiologist's. The results left me wondering. Your maximum heart rate is calculated using 220 minus your age. I'm sixty-two which means my max rate is 158 (supposedly the fastest that my heart can beat). For Cardiac Rehab they gave me a target rate of 120-128 which they want me to hit and maintain for twenty minutes on two different machines. That's 75% and 80% of my max respectively.Here's my question: during the stress test I went to 170 heartbeats a minute and held it (and didn't die, thank God!). Doing the math backwards, does this mean I have the heart of a 20-year-old? (170 is 85% for a 20-year-old, 100% for a 50-year-old).

Changes

The description for this blog used to be "things a writer thinks about." Unfortunately, (I'm told that I'll get over it eventually) since I had a heart attack in early May, the only things this writer has been thinking about all relate to that event. So while I still have a few weeks left in cardiac rehab I thought I would "rehab" this blog and get some of these things out of my system.

I've been collecting ideas and making notes with a view to produce (eventually!) something like My Vegetable Love: A Journal of a Growing Season by Carl H. Klaus. I won't be posting in any particular order. If I ever decide to scoop them into something approaching chronological that's way ahead of me.

new novel - new blog

I've decided to give this blogging-your-novel online a shot. Check out the second in the Senior Center Murder series at Gold Medal Murder. I'd love to hear some feedback on how I'm doing!

Someone on my side

Thanks are due to Walter McElligott, editor and gentleman. See the advance copy of Walt's interview with me which will appear in the July 2007 edition of the Clarion (Chicago Writers Association) in July.