T-76: Getting Ready--Body Version

When we tell people we are going on a cross country bicycle trip, they have two responses.  The majority shake their heads ruefully and allow that we must be soft in the heads to do such a ridiculous thing.  A certain number bounce with enthusiasm and wish they could join us as we head out.  Though their responses are quite different, they share a common question, “How are you training?”  In the case of Wes, the answer is, “I take an occasional walk with the dog.”

In my case, the story is quite different.  Not only have I returned to the gym and started working with a personal trainer---more on that in a moment—I also thought I should get a physical for the first time in years and years. Thus begins a journey that has not yet ended.

I go to my long time physician and friend.  I am prepared for the worst, I think.  Multiple tests—blood, urine, height, weight.   “Weight shockingly high….let’s check one more thing.  One of my staff will be in shortly to give you an electrocardiogram.  It will be good for a baseline as you have never had one.”

Ok.  The assistant, who seems remarkably surly, comes in and rather roughly attaches contacts to various points on my chest and ribs.  She connects a whole handful of wires to me.  Turns on the machine.  Pulls off the leads.  Leaves without a word.  I gingerly pry the contacts from my body.  And wait.  And wait some more.  In desperation, I grab an out of date Readers Digest, and discover that a friend and an acquaintance are the cover story. 

My doctor comes back and tells me to sit down.  It is clear she is shaken.  She shows me the EKG and points out that it shows a major problem on one of the sectors.  I need to see a heart doctor…pronto. 

Well, what the hell.  I knew my life was stressful; I knew I was heavier than I have ever been, but I had been exercising hard at the gym with no problem.  But what do I know? 

My fifth line was going up instead of down

It will take two weeks to get an appointment.  Don’t worry, we’ll figure out what’s going on.  Ok.  I won’t worry, my mouth says, but my brain has already started spinning desperate scenarios at warp speed. 

The spinning notches up a few days later, when my doctor calls me with the news that though my blood pressure is great, and my heart rate is low, my cholesterol level is dangerously high.  So now I am convinced that I am going to have a heart attack at any moment.  I tell myself that my grandfather died of a heart attack in March (it’s March now! I worry) when he was younger than me.

I try to beat back the dread, but I fail at it miserably.

I have several visits to the cardiologist, who, of course, is miles and miles away from my office.  I have to miss a bunch of work, which only adds to my stress and anxiety.   More blood tests, a carotid artery sonogram, a stress test, another EKG.  The doctor calls me in.  I can feel my anxiety tighten a fist around me.

“We can find nothing wrong with your heart.  The previous test must have been done wrong.   You need to keep exercising and get your cholesterol down.  Oh, by the way, there is a nodule on your thyroid that needs to be checked. We’ll see you when you get back from your bike ride.” I guess I am relieved, but now I have to take a bunch of tests on my thyroid. I read about goiters and worry about cancer.  This is ridiculous.

I will keep working out and trying hard to increase my fitness level.  I am making good progress, contacting muscles, like those cut during my abdominal surgery,  that have been out of communication for years. I find I like the free weights.  I sweat to achieve minimal results like walking 2 miles or biking 5 miles in 30 minutes.  I need a Masters in body knowledge and maintenance, but I am struggling for basic skills.   It is what it is.

I know I will get in better shape on the bike, but I sure do wish I wasn’t starting at such a deficit.  But like my trainer says.  It’s not where you start, it how long you keep going, that matters.  Well, I can see a long and winding road ahead of me.