The Anaerobic Threshold

The worst feeling I ever had while having fun was trying to run and smoke at 11,000 feet above sea level.
I was skiing Snowbird Mountain and took the first Tram of the day to the summit, 11,000 feet.
The first thing I noticed was air hunger.
The second thing I noticed was that it was hard to keep a cigarette lit.
The third thing I noticed was the cold followed by the fact that my hands were purple.
I was standing with a friend and we decided to try to run to the head of the first slope.
We made it a few feet and several minutes were required to catch our breath.
I felt this same way on Tuesday at Boot Camp or as I will now rename it the Anaerobic Hot Box.
A whole new set up was ready for the unwary.
No wraps, no boxing glove required.
Multiple stations, alternating upper body, lower body.
The count 100 standing dumbbell presses.
Other stations of interest, push ups, jump rope, stair run, agility ladder, hammer curls, mountain climbers and so on.
No rest periods were afforded and the sweat came fast and furious.
I began noticing it after the first three stations, I was panting trying to catch a breath, I had real air hunger, but it was on to the next station and the air hunger just kept getting a little worse and demanding more of my attention.
I wasn’t smiling and I didn’t have enough air to laugh and there was another 50 minutes to go.
Everybody was initially bright red but then I noticed gradually shaded into the color purple.
It suggested that oxygen levels were falling or blood flow was “stopping”.
It immediately flashed through my mind that this was just like Snowbird, we were flirting with the anaerobic threshold.
Cross it and exercise has to cease in just a few minutes.
Stay just below it and you can exercise until the fuel runs out.
People felt it; low rumbles of discomfort were heard circling the room.
“Man I am hurting”.
“I can’t catch my breath; I have a stitch in my side”.
But the circuit continued, three times around followed by a vigorous set of abs.
The locker room was quiet, most just happy to be out of the Anaerobic Zone.
Heart rates and respiratory rates began to return to more normal levels.
I knew the amount of lactic acid built up in that room meant a lot of people were going to be sore the next day and many complained of muscle aches lasting beyond 24 hours.
It is interesting what we will do to ourselves.
It is good to know that the competitive spirit is alive and well even without oxygen.
I guess that is how life got started anyway.
One little anaerobic cell with a big attitude.

Spin Doctor

First it was slink around the gym; try to build some muscle and endurance while avoiding the “big guys”.
Next, begin walking on the treadmill and spending one or two minutes on the stair master.
All the time looking with admiration at the Boot Camp people and hoping to join the group in the future.
Finally, in my mind, cresting a new peak, spending one hour with the “Spin Doctor”.
I recently after much thought and trepidation entered the spin class.
Sparta is the “Spin Doctor” and wasting a bike with inadequate effort is in her estimation a major “mortal sin”.
Spinning is a very heavily subscribed class.
Frequently three or four people are unable to get a bike.
So if you are lucky enough to get a bike you had better be ready to ride to your death.
This is something you can’t easily walk away from and it is something that requires an internal integrity as to the amount of effort.
Effort is measured in revolutions per second and volumes of sweat rolling off of the body.
Effort is measured in heart rate and how long you exceed the predicted max for your stated age and I am not talking target but predicted max.
Predicted Maximal Heart rate is 220-AGE so for me my predicted max would be 155 and my target for exercise would be 60 to 80% of the max or 94 to 124 beats per minute.
So I went into the spin class and got a bike.
People help me set up the bike, Sparta comes in, sets the mood, lights down, music “cranked”.
She begins calling out the terrain, “a flat, lets go all out”, 5 minutes later, “incline”, (increase the resistance) for 6 more minutes, “getting steeper, stand up” everybody increases the resistance, launches themselves into a standing position on the pedals and maintains the pace.
It seems like many minutes pass, thighs are screaming, sweat is not dripping from the forehead but pouring from the forehead in a continuous stream.
I silently wonder if I have ruptured an artery and am now “freely bleeding” from the forehead since it is flowing so fast and one towel is soaked.
Finally a flat, sit back and again it is all out.
Sixty minutes pass fairly quickly, more quickly than I would have ever guessed making me wonder if I passed out during the session.
As Mr. Id has said on occasion during a strenuous class, “I have one leg that is completely paralyzed”.
If he can recover from transitory paralysis I am sure I can peddle even in a state of unconsciousness.
First you really don’t want to waste the bike and secondly the “Spin Doctor” is watching.
Oh, and just in case you were wondering, my heart rate at the end of the last class was 164 or 107% of predicted max.
I guess I am ready to ride to “death”.

A Question?

Trysynthesis:
At some time, when it would be convenient, I would like to speak with you about your exercise routine. Let me know when you might have a free moment.
Thanks

A Response!

I love to talk about my exercise routine.
In fact I talk about it so much I have been become self-conscious and don’t say that much anymore.
First a little background:
Long history of bad habits, smoking, overweight, (peak weight 288) and working all day and night.
Then vascular issues.
Actually was trying to begin exercising when they started.
Determined to recover better than before.
Got a Trainer: This lady is an angel.
Overweight, out of breath, this guy won’t last.
She only took me as a trial because of my wife.

Started with very basic training, most of the effort around diet and core exercises plus cardio, stared with 15 minutes on the elliptical and two minutes on the stair master.
Now go 7 days a week.
Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday Boot Camp (One continuous hour of circuit training; Running laps, hitting the heavy bag, hitting the mitts, hitting the speed bag, jump rope, squats, slip rope, agility ladder, curls, pushups, sometimes flipping tractor tires and sometimes pushing a car, always lots of movement and no rest).
Following Boot Camp on Saturday I train with Sparta; she continues to introduce new lifts and challenges so that even after a full year she can still find ways to test me beyond belief.
On the non-Boot Camp days I try to do between 30 to 60 minutes of cardio, Stair master or treadmill with a goal: run a mini marathon.
Following the cardio I go down and concentrate on lifting and working out different muscle groups.
I try to do abs every night and recently started the Ab Ripper from P90X.
I am trying to hold to a strict diet (going green-Brussel Sprouts and Spinach) with a goal weight of 168, currently at 195.2.
Other goals; 25 unassisted chin-ups or pull-ups and an abdomen like the Spartans in 300.
I don’t know if it is possible at the age of 63 but so far I have not found a limit and no one has told me I can’t do it.
I don’t know if it will extend my life but I never would have guessed I could feel this good.
I enjoy the "hurt" that comes with this; it is a sign that you are alive.

The Hat Is Back

The Cat In the Hat
The Mad Hatter
All essential elements in the story being told.
So now "The Hat” has returned to wander down this “rabbit hole” known as Boot Camp.
He has been more invisible than even the Cheshire Cat and I must note here; the Cheshire Cat has again become a paragon of attendance.
The “Hat” ran through all of the routines today.
The attitude of relaxation is the key characteristic of "The Hat”.
He doesn’t groan, get ruffled or walk away but just plows through each exercise with the intensity befitting a well-trained athlete.
I keep looking for him to sweat but I guess that isn’t something he does.
He is quick and fast on the mitts and doesn’t seem to like Mr. Heavy Bag as he punishes it with repeated body blows.
His laps are quick.
This is something everyone in the class appreciates, as that is frequently the timer for moving to the next station.
Today a new wrinkle was added in that the chair squats became the count, seventy-five, butt on chair before anyone got to move to the next station.
Sparta even made a point of saying, “I don’t want to see the ugly I have been witnessing with those squats on that first round”.
The class is much bigger now and the number ranges as high as twenty so it is quick and very little rest is afforded.
Missing for a long period makes it hurt all that much more when coming back.
So now "The Hat” is back bringing new dimensions to this party in the “rabbit hole” known as Boot Camp and needs to stay because then it won't "hurt" so much next time; or it could hurt worse.
It all depends on Sparta.
But gosh, now I can hardly wait till Alice and the others show up.

Oh, Oh!

I heard it, my first thought, “Surely I misunderstood”.
Sparta had just finished a grueling exercise.
Some of the strongest people in the class admitted, there wasn’t much left in the well.
“I had to go down deep to finish that one”, said one of the stronger runners.
But there it was, “I am going to have to kick up the intensity, you guys are making it look too easy”.
Since when is sweating a pool, really a pool of water and wanting to drink it, making it look easy?
Since when is heaving for breath between stations to keep from throwing up, making it look easy?
Since when is doing crunches until you are sure that the pain in your lower abdomen is a burgeoning hernia making it look easy?
It is not easy; it is comforting, knowing you can get through it.
It is comforting to see so many other people suffering with you.
There are funny parts that demand laughter.
This keeps you from giving up.
It isn’t easy, it is actually hard but I think the fact everyone returns and loves the class gives us that beatific look.
Remember lack of sugar and oxygen can also make people look placid, beatific which is just before coma.
So part of me wants to say, “Bring it on”.
But then I am reminded of the time I deserved the paddle, a 14 inch ash blade with holes and a stout handle; as I bent over taunted my dad, “You can’t hurt me, bring it on”.
Hey I never said I was smart back then, just trying to be tough.
“Well then here it comes”, he said.
“Ha”, came the derisive snort.
Bending over and grabbing the ankles, I tensed as I heard the paddle whistle through the air.
The truth, it hurt, but I didn’t make a sound.
My Mom said, “Just say you’re sorry”.
No, this was a battle of wills.
I don’t know who won that day and although I didn’t move with much dexterity for a few days I never got the paddle again.
I think we both lost something in that interchange.
So I am always reluctant to say “bring it on” because generally somebody pays a heavy price.
So maybe I will just be quiet on this one and try to keep up.
If I can, maybe this time everyone wins.

Diet Time

“Baby, Some Gain Must Fall”

Gaining weight is easy.
Look at all of the temptations out there and I don’t mean the singing group.
I am talking about fried foods, processed sugars, doughnuts, cream pies, margaritas, beer, wine, tequila shots, pasta, ice cream, cocktail parties, (OOOOH) the odor of
“sin-namon” taking you back in time to cookies, chocolate cakes, the sweet smells of youth.
But no more, turn your back on delectable delights and instead turn to the rigors of Tofu, bean sprouts, black bean burgers on paper thin wheat rolls, protein shakes, boiled or broiled skinless chicken, water by the gallons, bars of fiber, protein chunks that taste like bad cardboard and vegetables, picked fresh and steamed without butter followed by the hollow taste of, “You lost four tenths of one pound in one week”.
Four tenths of one pound, “Is that what I heard”?
I know that one pound is equal to 3500 calories. Further I am told I need to reduce my intake to 1500 calories a day to lose two pounds a week.
I have done that and track it rigorously.
I exercise every day and I would guess I expend about 1000 calories a day in exercise beyond my basal metabolic needs, so it appears I am burning an excess 7000 calories a week.
That alone is two pounds of loss related to exercise plus the two related to diet so I should be losing four pounds a week instead of four tenths of one pound.
I am experiencing a “Factor of Ten” issue here.
This is a little like falling down Alice’s rabbit hole.
It is in fact a repudiation of the First Law of Thermodynamics (when energy changes type and leaves a system, it takes its mass with it).
That law states that energy and mass are constant, that is, in perfect balance, if mass is lost (Exercise or less energy than needed to maintain) an appropriate amount of energy is generated (heat, sweat) and if energy is converted to mass (food) an appropriate amount of energy is lost (cow dies).
This would not appear to be the finding in my case.
As I figure it I am running a 14,000 calorie a week deficit, divide that by 3500 and you are left with the obvious loss of four pounds.
In my case I lost four tenths of a pound running a 14,000 calorie deficit which means to lose one pound would require a 35,000 calorie deficit and a four pound weight loss would mean I would have to go in the hole by 140,000 calories.
Here comes that “Factor of Ten” again.
It took forty years to put all of this weight on and it now seems it will take four hundred years to get it off.
So if I determine to go to the gym every day for the next 146,000 days I should get it done, because “Baby, Some Gain Must Fall”.

A Journey Through The Mind

It is getting close to the end of the training session.
The question, “Have I ever tried resistive training with you”?
The blank stare on my face says more than the mumbled, “No I don’t think so.”
“Well let me set it up while you go finish the dumbbell curls”.
When she is ready, she tells me to take a seat on the Preachers Bench.
This is a bench with a 45 degree slanted table that isolates various parts of the biceps while doing curls.
She begins, “I am going to have you face forward and pick up the bar and begin doing curls. I will be adding resistance by pulling on the attached rope.”
“Many people have cursed at me during this exercise”.
“It gets into your head.”
I think, this can’t be that bad.
So I start.
Immediately I discover it is bad, really bad.
I plow through the curls, each one getting harder than the last.
Next, I resist the pull on the rope and struggle to hold the bar in place.
Ultimately it goes down and now even without the resistance it is getting hard to reset in the up position.
Finally the resistance on the curls and against the pull down.
At one point I start laughing, something someone said, I don’t even remember, just the command, “come on keep moving, no rest”.
Somewhere deep inside I am not sure why I am still trying to do this.
An instinct for survival and an escape from pain is trying to shove into the foreground.
There is real pain now, there is real agony that keeps mounting and this lady keeps telling me to keep up the pace, don’t slow down, don’t stop.
I know at a brainstem level, somewhere below active thinking that I will not stop.
This is something I shouldn’t have started because there is no way to gracefully stop.
Once started, you have to finish.
I not sure, but I think whimpering sounds are escaping from my mouth.
I know this just isn’t right.
Then it is over.
“Really gets into your head, doesn’t it”?
“It is great for building muscle”.
“We will do this again in another month”.
“That’s great”, I think to myself and head for the locker room but only after thanking her for this “really unique experience”.
The next day I was surprised because my biceps didn’t hurt and I was able to do five chin-ups.
I hadn’t slept the whole previous night thinking about the experience but here the next day I am no worse for the wear.
Sparta saw me and asked, “Do your arms ache”?
“No, I am good”.

“Then your mind gave out before the biceps”, we need to do it again and soon.”
Oh, joy and whoopee.

I found the following comment concerning this exercise on a bodybuilding website:

Torturous Varying Tension Method
I saved this for last, because it is truly one of my all time favorite shocking
methodologies; most will never have what it takes to gut this one out.

I sure hope my brain stays for the next round.