Posted on June 9, 2013 under Storytelling with 4 comments

If you’re like me, you’re concerned about your health and the eternal struggle to find the right balance when it comes to nutrition and exercise.  I would like to say that I am a model of consistency but that would be a bold faced lie.  I am a model of inconsistency.  When I’m good, I’m very good and when I’m bad … well , let’s just not go there.

A year ago I was at the pinnacle of health, or so I thought.  I had run two marathons ( Boston and Ottawa ) five weeks apart.  I was lean and mean and was the epitome of discipline.  After the second marathon, my body sent me a few discrete messages that it needed an extended holiday from the constant pounding of the road.  I listened.  Sort of.

To give my joints the rest it needed, I hung up the runners and hopped on the bike.  I was living at Malignant Cove at the time and so I biked one way, either to or from work every day, a distance of 21K.  As far as biking goes, that’s barely enough to get a sweat on.

And then I got the biking itch.  Gee, if I can do 21K, why not 30K.  Well, those of you who know me will quickly understand where this story is going.  Before too long I tackled the Cape, a distance of 78K. This is a tough bike ride, especially for someone who hadn’t done a whole lot of biking.  By the time the cold weather arrived, I was doing 100K rides.  Thank god it snowed one day and I was forced to put the bike away or else I may have ended up at the Rehabilitation Centre in Halifax.  I set up a stationary bike in the house,  which bored me to tears.

This is when the pain settled in.  It is like a party guest that won’t leave your house. You know the type.  You ask them to turn out the lights when they’re leaving.   Of course, my thrice surgically repaired knee was sore (duh), as were my back and neck. To top it off, the plantar fasciitis that I had successfully battled before returned with a vengeance.

At Christmas, I reinjured a herniated disc … by coughing!. For the past six months I have suffered chronic but not debilitating pain.  I have been going for therapy but haven’t had a whole lot of luck so far.  I walked to and from work all winter and spring which provided a modicum of exercise but certainly not what my head and body craves.

This is when I succumbed to an old addiction.  Sweets.   Any of you who read my blog have seen several references to this.. When I was running, I limited sweets to once a week: Sundays.  Once I stopped running and when the pain set in, I grabbed that old crutch and ran with it.  One day a week quickly morphed into 8 days a week, to steal a line from the Beatles.

Of course, if your activity level is severely curtailed and your caloric intake ramps up, the result is a few extra notches in the belt … and we all know how that feels.

A few days ago, I met with a young man, Matt MacDonald, a Masters student at STFX.  It would require several paragraphs to describe him but for now let’s just say that he is energetic, ambitious and entrepreneurial.  And he is probably one of the fittest people on the planet. He was telling me about his 30 day challenges, whether it has to do with exercise, food etc.  It is about setting realistic goals and targets that are achievable.   Check him out at www.wemovethistown.com

I thought it was high time that I stop using pain as an excuse and decided on my own 30 day challenge.  At a minimum, my goal is to go completely sweet-free for at least a month, hopefully longer (forever?).. In conjunction with this, I plan to incrementally increase my exercise and we’ll see what happens.  I know what will happen.  I will lose a few pounds ( ½ a pound a week is recommended by most sane dieticians ) and I will feel better mentally and physically.

So there.  I’ve put it out there.  I know I can do it, must to it and will do it.

How about you?  Any changes you need to make in your life?

If you don’t feel better in 30 days, there’s a money back guarantee!

Posted on June 8, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

Recently I dusted off the golf clubs which have sat dormant for several years, to take part in a charity fundraiser at our local club.  Just for old time sake I decided to walk to the club.  When I was ten I made this walk every day of the summer, carrying three clubs under my arms … along with two egg salad sandwiches and a bottle of Coke.  Back then, I had high expectations.  Yesterday, heading to the course, I had no expectations and I am happy to report that I met them.

Mark Twain said that “golf is a good walk spoiled”.  I know of what he speaks.  For forty five years I loved golf, endured it, hated it and tolerated it.  Now, I am happy to report, I have no feelings at all about the sport.  Sort of the way I feel about my hockey team.  You grow out of these things.

These days, a trip to the golf course is about time well spent with friends and having the opportunity to encounter the beauty of nature.

As I recall vividly, I played golf on my wedding day.  It was early October and we were the only group on the course.  Hardly surprising as it was the day after a hurricane and it was still very windy and we were pelted by heavy rains.  Nobody was keeping score.  I have come to the conclusion that not keeping score is one of the keys to enjoying the game.  Because, quite frankly, nobody really gives a damn what your score is, unless they are emptying your pockets of money.

This reminds me of the day that a couple of guys I used to golf with each took fifty cents off me.  They could hardly contain their glee.  The next morning, I was driving to an appointment in Cape Breton when my assistant at called to tell me that there were two gentlemen waiting to invest some money.  I almost turned around until she told me that each of them was fondling two quarters.

Blessedly, on the day of the charity fundraiser, we were playing a “scramble” format.  There was no pressure.  If (when) you hit a bad shot, you simply picked up and went to the best shot in your group.  It turned out to be a scorcher of a day: 30 degrees Celsius.

There were a lot of birdies but, unfortunately for our group, they were all singing cheerfully in the trees.  There was one eagle but he was nesting.  We were more or less, “par for the course”.

I did notice the smell of the fresh mown grass and the panoramic view of Pleasant Valley (how aptly named) from the seventh tee.

A funeral cortege was driving by the golf course as a group was putting on the 18th green.  Upon seeing the hearse, one of the players stopped and put his hat over his heart as the procession passed.  “That was really a very nice gesture,” one of his buddies said.  “Hey, it’s the least I could do.  Sunday would have been our 35th wedding anniversary!”

Posted on June 7, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

On the eve of the U.S. Open golf tournament, I thought this would be a good time to put a golf related story on my blog. The U.S. Open is especially meaningful to me and Betty. You golf aficionados will remember that it was 31 years ago that Tom Watson won this event  at Pebble Beach, chipping in on the 17th. hole. This was the very day that Betty and I started dating. We will be celebrating our 31st. anniversary later this year.

I have a long relationship with the sport. I started playing at the age of ten and played for forty-five years. Eight years ago I stopped playing. A few years ago, I gave my clubs to my son , Peter, as they were only gathering dust in the basement. He has embraced the game with a considerable amount of enthusiasm. That’s akin to the pope embracing Catholicism.

I have no urge to resume playing after this hiatus but last fall, I bought a set of used clubs and have played a few times. The story that I will be publishing on the blog tomorrow is , indeed, a golf story but one that is very different had I written it when I was passionate about the sport.

I took my mother to the hospital early yesterday morning for some blood work. We were sitting in the crowded waiting room when an older lady sitting next to me struck up a conversation. She recognized me from the stories in The Casket. She told me that she was enjoying them and mentioned the story about the old Memorial rink. She said that this story brought back many memories including the county league hockey games.

I have to tell you that these kinds of exchanges are what makes the writing particularly gratifying. I get to hear other people’s stories. I am merely the catalyst.

I hope you enjoyed my brother’s story that was posted earlier this week. If you missed it, go back and check it out.

Happy Friday!