§7 – Exercise

This entry is part 7 of 13 in the series Changes and Results

Exercise is not about weight loss.

Exercise builds physical ability and mental health.

For me, it began when I fell in love– with a bicycle.

The story of a boy and his bicycle

Long after college, way down in my downward death spiral, I bought a cheap mountain bicycle. Today, I don’t recall what possessed me to even want to buy a bike. I guess it just reminded me of the freedom I’d discovered when as a kid I first set out on a bicycle.

At the time, we were living in an apartment a short ride from a long park that followed a meandering creek. The park has long trails—some asphalt, some packed gravel—that follow the creek, and it has a few, short, side trails that almost resemble mountain biking.

I fell in love.

I fell in lust is probably more accurate.

I pedaled and pedaled. …and then I pedaled some more. …and then a lot more. I literally wore out that cheap, beautiful bike in the first summer.

During that summer we bought a mountain bike for my dad. He bought an hybrid bike for my mom. Then for a Christmas present, my parents and Tracy bought me a nicer bike. Whereas I was previously crazy about riding, with a new, better, lighter bike, I took things up several notches to addiction, and began riding the daylights out of everything.

I bought a “Mountain Biking Pennsylvania” book and started just heading out to ride trails from the book. Tracy bought a Cannondale when she changed jobs, and then things got out of hand—like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas out of hand. In the end, I was directly responsible for 27 people going to a particular bike shop and buying bikes because I kept trying to find someone who had the bicycling bug as bad as me.

I pedaled on into the seasons. I commuted the short 2 miles to and from my office in rain and snow. I had studded snow tires for the winter. I replaced bike parts as they wore out, and modified the bike more and more until the bike shop owner, (at this point, a good friend,) finally said, “You know, there are other bikes.” It had never occurred to me that I could own more than one bike. he looked at me like the simpleton I was, “Craig, some people have so many bikes, they hide the newest ones from their wives.”

Re-learning to move

The story continues of course. (The new bike is named Beelzebub, and is the first bike I’ve ever named.) But this article is about “exercise”, not about my affairs with bikes.

In the midst of it all, I understood that it was all partly the runner’s high aspect. But also knew that I simply felt better the more I rode those bikes. Sure my wrists got sore, and I became a menace in the local park zooming around and around like it somehow mattered in the grand scheme. But in the process, my body was changing.

Much later I learned that what I had done was change my identity; changed the way I saw myself. I became the sort of person who would get up early on weekends to drive an hour to ride a bike all over some trail because it was “Trail number #87” in a book. I became the sort of person who learns about bikes, then learns about exercise, and then learns about glycogen storage in muscles.

At the very beginning of the bicycling epoch, I was building a lot of muscle. Well, a “lot” compared to the gelatinous blob of fat I had converted myself into after college. Muscle requires energy to build it and then some energy to maintain it. So in the beginning I got a small win on weight loss, just by adding muscle. As my daily caloric needs went way up, it halted the creeping weight gain.

Years later I learned that exercise is simply, generally healthy.

That sounds like a platitude, but it’s not: Even small amounts of exercise have out-sized benefits in your health and your daily mood. If I exercise just a little, (for example, 20 minutes of moderate walking,) then I sleep better that night, and every time I exercise I get a small psychological benefit.

The key point was the change in my mental health: Exercise made me feel better, and the better I felt, the more I wanted to exercise. Exercise didn’t make me lose weight: It improved my health, and I became the sort of person who weighs less. That sounds subtle, but it’s tremendously easier than trying to lose weight directly.

Compensatory adaptation

I changed my behavior (I added biking) and my body responded by adapting. (Compensatory adaptation from Ned Kock is a great, deep-dive.)

I added some muscle, changed some hormone levels and interactions, cleaned up some mitochondrial function, and other things improved. But soon (it was probably about a year) my body had adapted to where its new state worked well enough for the activities I was doing regularly. This is the famous plateau effect.

As I’ve mentioned, I didn’t realize this is what was happening (the plateau). I just bike bike bike bike biked all over everything. Meanwhile I was tracking things in my health journal, tweaking things here and there (sleep, moving dinner-time earlier, food choices, etc..)

How would you implement this intentionally? If you are even farther out of shape than I was at the start, I don’t suggest starting with biking. Walking is probably better, or maybe even swimming. Exactly what you do isn’t the point. It’s that you begin to exercise. Don’t to do in the sense that, “I have to go exercise now.” (This is why gym memberships generally don’t work as a New Year’s resolution.) Rather, you want to exercise just as something you do, and that will transform yourself into the type of person who exercises.

I am the type of person who…

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Working hard

Not that I’m blaming society for my troubles as a young adult, but nobody ever seemed to have a very good explanation for why I actually might want to work hard and challenge myself. Not “have to”, or “need to,” but “want.” The reason was always, “It’s just something you should do,” or “You’ll be glad you did when you’re my age.”

~ David Cain from, 3 Pieces of Advice I’d Give My 18 Year-Old Self If I Could

True story: I once got a job working at a golf course as a grounds keeper. I’d bicycle ~10 miles at first-light and my dad picked me up after work. I’d string trim (the entire golf course — wrap your brain around that), edge sand traps (by hand using a machete to cut the edge of the lawn) and then rake the sand. I chain-sawed trees that fell on the course, and I painted wrought-iron in the blazing sun. Every weekday for an entire summer.

I learned two things:

A deep respect for physical labor.

…and that I wanted to go to college and be a scientist working in a lab, or maybe with computers.

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A deep sense of malaise

This entry is part 6 of 72 in the series My Journey

You can harness and channel these needs, but a man completely ignores them at his peril. Modern men are told there’s nothing real about manhood — that it’s all a silly, outdated cultural construct — and they sure work hard to believe it. And yet they cannot shake a deep sense of malaise, and they don’t know why.

~ Brett McKay from, Where Does Manhood Come From? | The Art of Manliness

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I consider myself very lucky. I’m expressing my mid-life crisis in some pretty healthy and productive ways. Instead of going on a more traditional bender, I’m shaking off shackles and bindings that I in fact put on.

One day I realized that there is no longer anyone left to tell me what to do. Certainly one has responsibilities, but there are precious few of those which are immutable bedrock. You look at your life and think, “Look at all these ideas I’ve accepted.” When you pick idly at some of the threads, the whole thing comes apart, and you find yourself in a row boat on the sea — or on a bicycle on the open road (choose your own metaphor). On the open sea in a good way; You realize you are free, that in fact you have NOT always been free, and that there’s an awful lot of life left to live now that you’re ready to start.

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In Memoriam

bwc_in_memoriam
Bruce W. Constantine
April 28, 1946 – January 12, 2011

I can say many things about my father…

He was not a big fan of funerals.

He did not like to wear a suit or tie.

He could not fix plumbing.

He did not ask for directions.

He was not a good cook.

…and he definitely did not like to be called at 3am to fix an elevator.

He was always prepared.

He preferred to work smarter, not harder.

He taught many people to swim, and he swam like a fish.
– After nearly 50 years, Morrow, Fischel, Long & Constantine still hold their pool record in the 200m medley relay.

He could be headstrong, but always did the right thing.

He was gentle, knowing that violence is the last resort of the incompetent.

He was loving, even if not outwardly emotional.
– He liked to make a show of shaking his Father’s Day cards looking for money.

He was reliable.
– When his mom called, he showed up promptly. If something needed to be done, he did it. And if it needed to be fixed, he fixed it.

He was adventurous.
– I can tell you without exaggeration that he travelled from Hawaii to Europe, and from Canada to the Caribbean. He literally dove to the depths of the ocean and walked to the tops of mountains. He flew an airplane, built and flew model planes, sailed small boats, won races on his catamaran, deftly handled large yachts, and navigated Southern Comfort into every by-way from Deleware to Florida.
– In his younger days he careened around the Lehigh valley with his motorcycle and Austin Healy, and he rode thousands of miles on his bicycle.
– And yet, he was never boastful.

He was wise and invariably honest.

He always provided for his family.

He was loyal, and he was dedicated.
– He was happily married for over 42 years, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.

He was a loving son, husband and father.

…and of course, he made us laugh.

His ability to relate stories and anecdotes did not define who he was. In reality, he was all of the things I’ve mentioned and more. But his ability to make others laugh was exceptional, and for that he will be sorely missed by all who knew him.

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