Report Card

The gradual improvement of fitness is not always easy to chart especially if, like me, you are unwilling to take your pulse every few minutes or use exercise machines that count calories for you. The former is just too, too Type A for me (I think I'm a Type C-) and the latter results in boredom and discontinuance.

Ever since I retired, however, I've been enjoying walking up and down the fairly steep hills of my little town (or more recently being towed by an eager young canine) and the only measure I really had of my progress came with the slow disintegration of my walking shoes and the even slower increase in my range. The range improved dramatically with Cora's advent, but I must admit that I am not always grateful.

I do have my own personal fitness gauge, however, in the form of the highest local hill, Nicholl Knob. I think of this particular spot on the Crest Trail as my own personal StairMaster, a hill I have never been able to climb without stopping to gasp for breath at least three times before reaching the splendid panorama of the Bay that is the reward for all that sweaty effort. The road up is paved and winds around the hill, affording glimpses over the Bay as I stop, struggling to stay upright on the steep slope, while my lungs and quadripceps settle from active screaming to quiet whimpering. Sisyphus had a hill like this.

This past weekend, when my godson Mark was visiting, he mentioned on our Sunday walk that he thought my stamina had improved so this morning Cora and I tackled Nicholl Knob to measure the progress. Imagine my delight when I only had to stop once before cresting the hill!

Up there, the wind was warm and fresh, a young Asian couple stopped canoodling long enough to offer me some New Years fruit from their lunch, and I was suffused with a sense of accomplishment and well being. My bathroom scale says I haven't lost an ounce since I retired and began regular exercise but I feel as though I have gained a measure of health and a load of pleasure.