Title:

There's Always Tomorrow

Author: Laura Dion-Jones Casey

Article:
Never let a day pass that you will have cause to say, I will do
better tomorrow.

 Brigham Young (1801-1877, American Mormon leader)



 There's Always Tomorrow . . . .

Boy, was I ever in trouble last Monday morning. The rain poured
down like it was time to uncover the Ark - and I knew I had to
walk in it. I took the day before off - I was tired. I did,
however, do an hour Pilates studio class where the instructor,
Jackie, kicked our butts - so the day wasn't a total loss.

All the avid runners and walkers I know tell me that with the
kind of daily, weekly and yearly walking mile totals I rack up
(2361.28 miles in 2005 - my third full year) it's OK to take a
day off once a week.

I say: "Until daily walking is ingrained in your psyche, your
bones, your blood, take no days off if you can help it. Why
would you? For good behavior? You've been living a lifetime of
rewards for "good behavior" and the jig's up. You never know
what tomorrow will bring and you may need to take off for a real
emergency. One day off leads to two days off, two leads to
three, and the next thing you know - you're right back where you
started from - a big, fat, lazy slug layin' on the couch,
chompin' on chips."

Case in point:

Last Monday's rainy, chilly, Windy City wind - whipped across
the Chicago River at the Orleans Street Bridge vicious enough to
turn every single umbrella that came toward me inside out. One
gal cautioned as she passed, "Be careful!" Soaked to her skin,
she dragged a deflated, red umbrella along the soggy sidewalk
behind her. With that, I made an abrupt about face and headed
back toward East Bank Club. I was not about to see my favorite
designer umbrella get blown to smithereens.

I have to confess, indoor walking is not my favorite form of
cardio even in such an opulent, state-of-the-art health club as
EBC. I'll walk outdoors in ten or twenty below wind chills with
40 MPH blasts blowing snow up my butt the whole way, but I'll be
dressed for it. Walk in torrential rains - not this Roseanne
Roseannadanna. I hate getting soaked. So . . . the treadmill it
was. See what I mean about taking a day off - even a Sunday? It
leaves you with no choice. In my case, one day off will NOT lead
to two - I won't let it. I can't afford to.

I Voodoo dance my way through the club collecting my water and
towel and proceed to pick a spot on one of the newest, high-tech
LifeCycle treadmills - the ones that look like Star Wars sky
scooters. The thing practically does it all for you except
sweat. Hitting the quick start, I began my hour-long, indoor
trek inching up the speed as I warm up.

4:51 into it, I have a hard time keeping my eyes off the elapsed
time clock and couldn't help but wonder where I'd be on my walk
right now had I not detoured. This indoor thing was never gonna
work if I didn't distract myself with some real butt-moving
music. I put my powers of concentration to work and hypnotize
myself for the duration.

14:16 - My eyes slit open a tad and spy a commercial on one of
the nine gigantic TVs that hang scattered around EBC's cavernous
cardio room - "Bavarian Blackberry" the foot-high letters scream
from the screen. "Hurry and get yours before they're gone!" I
quickly realize they're not talking about a Palm Pilot-like
Blackberry, but a luscious crème pie! "Hurry and get mine before
they're gone? Indeed," I think. Just what I need to see when I'm
grapping to kick the sugar and starch habit I'm gradually
slipping into. My weight's up about five pounds over the past
few weeks with out-of-town company, celebrations and such, and
five pounds is where I put on the brakes. (More on this weight
gain situation in a later post.)

The dampness of the morning makes my knees shriek with pain, so
I walk at a speed of 2.8. I don't want to go too fast because
constant repetitive motion is a huge no-no for me - another
reason why I hate the darn treadmill - better I should walk
around the city's uneven, urban terrain. Sigh. I'm committed for
now.

29:46 - I'm half way there. I bump up the speed to 2.9. Today's
treadmill trudge is a be-atch for me. I switch my I-pod to
Tibetan tunes; they always transport me. Grabbing the handrails
for dear life, I close my eyes and away I go.

34:12 - I jab the speed arrow up to 3.0, snag a sip of water and
continue to hallucinate to the rhythms pulsing in my ears.

49:36 - "I'm almost there," I think! "Only a few more seconds to
go!"

49:39 - Oy, I made a mistake! I must be delirious. My mind plays
tricks on me - there are sixty minutes in an hour, not fifty.
Shoot. I'm doing sixty minutes if it kills me. "And try not to
make the last ten minutes a chore, will ya?" I advise myself.
Relying on my endurance walking training, I pump my arms, elbows
at 90 degrees, my thumbs turned toward the sky. The faster I
swing them, the more efficiently I walk.

More water.

"Cover up those darn numbers so you quit staring at them,
already. You're counting each digit off as if your life depends
on it." I scold.

59:19 - Oh, boy!

59:51 - Finally!

59:52 - "This is nuts," I think. "You're there."

Auto cool down suddenly kicks in and the machine slows. 2.92
miles at an average of 22-minute miles it reads. Not stellar,
but I'm sweating. Heart rate hovers at 104. How could that be?
Maybe the darn sensor isn't working. Punching the STOP button,
I've had enough - sixty to the exact second.

Now, on to my weights . . . . how many of you would've stuck it
out and took the sixty-minute indoor stroll? Hmmm? There are no
quick fixes and no easy answers to weight loss, don't let anyone
kid you. To get where you want to go with your weight, fitness
and health, you gotta wanna. How bad do you wanna?



Laura Dion-Jones Casey P.O. Box 10876 Chicago, IL 60610
312-933-7325 April 3, 2006© dionjones@aol.com