The 50-Yard Dash
As I’ve discussed elsewhere, I’m wrapping up my end-of-life planning, having found a good fiduciary outfit to handle my affairs when I no longer can or when I croak (in which case I certainly won’t be able to!) The place has what they call an “intake form” on which I gave them all kinds of info on my possessions, contacts, accounts etc. I tried to be humorless, I really did, but one question just brought it out of me. They asked for my race. You can likely guess from the title of this essay what I filled in.
The woman who received the form thought it was funny. I gave my usual response to such occurrences, “Don’t laugh, it only encourages me.” I thought I should add that I chose the 50-yard dash because it was the shortest one and I couldn’t run any farther. But I didn’t want to press my luck. By the way, she didn’t press me to say I’m Caucasian.
Part of this exchange was that I needed to mail them my signed agreement to use them as my fiduciary. Needing to get some exercise, I found myself walking the letter to the nearest drop-box. I would continue on from there taking my standard two-mile walk. I got to the cross-walk, and began my trot across Arlington to the mailbox. But my trot didn’t feel much like a trot. It was more like, well, something slower and less energetic than a trot. Faster than a walk, but not quite up to the trot I was gearing up for.
I’m certainly not in any condition to even pretend to do a 50-yard dash. Or even a ten-yard dash. Could I do as much as a 50-yard jog? Even the short distance of increased speed made me feel a bit, well, dizzy. Was it the metoprolol I take for my afib, or possibly the afib itself? Or maybe that I just haven’t tried to get out of first gear in so long that my body didn’t understand what I was doing.
I had a recent odd occurrence with my afib. I’ve had a definite pattern over the last two years in which I’ll be in afib five or six days in a row, followed by four to five weeks with a normal heartbeat. Two days ago, after being in normal status for about a week-and-a-half, I went into afib for but a single day. Then back out. Was this related? I don’t think so. But my lethargic attempt at jogging was unmistakable. Which brings up a serious question for me: what is my physical future?
The Physical Shin
Last update: September 5, 2024
The John Shinnick Website
My old friend, currently a decoration on a bookshelf.
I have this “Physical” section in this web site because my physical well being was always important to me. I used to call the section “Shin the Athlete” but as the years went by, I was less concerned with the sports I was playing and more with the maladies that kept me from playing them. So, it became “The Physical Shinn” (the extra “n” was added for totally unrelated reasons.) Indeed, I’m only now coming out of back-to-back physical therapy treatments for problems that have kept me from serious exercise for most of 2004.
It’s time to do something. Perhaps its introducing occasional short jogs into my walks. Perhaps it’s a return to modified pushups (you may recall that it was trying to do “real” ones that led me to my second round of therapy!) Perhaps (dare I say it) it’s a return to golf! My therapist actually recommended that I try just going to the driving range to test my shoulder. I still remember how to get to Tilden Park; I think I’ll give it a try.
Many years ago, I envisioned myself playing softball in an over-80 league. That’s seven years away. I haven’t actually played in a league in perhaps twenty years. It was at PG&E. About ten years ago (I think) I last swung a bat and tried to catch a ball with some friends. I’ve long since given up that goal, as it became a fantasy. I could still get ready if I set my mind to it. I’ve still got my bat and glove!
But I’d have to learn to run for fifty yards first.
