Wednesday, September 16, 2009

i am an ambulance chaser

when exchanging "what's your heart rate?" information, i am consistently met with a non verbal response that would equate the one should i tell people that i am moving to a trailer park in calcutta or have been diagnosed as highly allergic to chocolate.

apparently my cardiovascular system is the equivalent of a hypomanic toddler on red bull. or a 9 month old labrador on toilet paper.

despite an entrenched running dysmorphia, it appears that my gait is that of a torqueing slinky- and this is without the added energy expended faffing about with an ipod to skip ahead to the buggles on repeat. the thing is, i have seen "those" people at the park. the ones who run like michael flately's riverdance (without the eyeliner and cod piece), or those who look like they're compulsively high fiving a punching bag. my perception is that i shuffle, keeping feet close to the ground and hands well below the navel (every 'action sports international' photo thus far has captured me in a stance that looks an awful lot like i'm just nipping out to drop an envelope in the mail box around the corner).

apparently not.

i have now been instructed to do the equivalent of putting braces on my form. "whatever it takes to maintain your heart rate at 30-40 beats less than what it is now". yes, i believe that's called "walking", and not even a "middle aged around the neighborhood with hand weights and cotton sweat pants and white skechers" pace. algae could hussle faster than me at 140 bpm. just sitting and staring at my heart rate monitor can vary between 75-90. try and tie a shoelace and we're pushing three digits.

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