My Muscle Memory Has Alzheimer

No one looked good in this thing.

Sports has never been my thing. I am not an athlete of any kind. I tried out for baseball once and when the ball came towards me I closed my eyes and ducked. In school we were forced to participate while wearing baggy, navy blue, one piece pantaloons.

I don’t skate or ski (please don’t tell my fellow Canadians). My television is allergic to  broadcasting football, basketball or hockey (again, let’s just keep that between you and me).  The only time I have been a spectator in a sport is if a relative was playing.

My Grand Nephew – My Favourite Jock

I didn’t own a bicycle but I borrowed them frequently. I loved to feel the wind on my face. I walked. A lot. In those days it was the only way to get to get from point A to point B.

In the 80’s “fitness” became very popular. Everyone was exercising with their favourite celebrities. Jane Fonda, Jamie Lee Curtis & Olivia Newton John made  jumping around and sweating quite fashionable. Seriously… spandex, tights and leg warmers became top fashion items. Gyms were being called studios and off the shoulder baggy sweatshirts were a staple in your wardrobe, although, I suspect the movie “Flashdance” had a lot to do with that.
My friend Sandy and I were right into all of it.  Her family owned a health food store and we kept on top of all the nutrition trends. A new gym was opening in Niagara Falls offering aerobics classes to women and body building to men. This new venture was owned and operated by John Cardillo – Champion Body Builder. It was his first but it wouldn’t be his last. He was kind of a local hero having conquered many of the greats in California and he had the belts to prove it.

John Cardillo – Champion Body Builder

Sandy and I thought it would be cool to join the men’s side.  John wouldn’t allow it. I don’t believe women’s body building was a thing yet anywhere. He protested and flatly refused. He explained that it wasn’t a pretty thing and that the men would be swearing and grunting and generally be disgusting as they went about their workouts.  We explained to him that neither of us was a delicate little flower and that we could handle it. Every day we would show up in the morning and every day we would end up working out with the women. Eventually we wore him down. The truth is he thought if he gave us a shot we would quit.  We didn’t.  So body building became a part of my life. One day would be spent working out with the ladies and the next with the men. I loved it. In fact the morning of my first wedding that’s were I was. At the gym. Someone said, “Aren’t you getting married soon?” I responded with, “yeah, in a couple of hours”. There was an audible gasp followed by, “what the hell are you doing here?” It just seemed that I had to be there if I was to get through the rest of the day. It had never occurred to me that I should be anywhere else. My family wasn’t impressed when I finally showed up. They thought I had run away. The chaos that ensued is another story.

One of my brothers, Ed, was retired military and lived in a high rise apartment. He did not use the elevator and “strongly” encouraged me (he made me) to do the same. I must really love my brother because I climbed those 20+ flights of stairs like Rocky Balboa every day to see him.

In 1992 I “battled” breast cancer. I lived alone at the beach. Surgery, chemo, radiation became my new routine. I had to stop driving as some of my meds made it illegal. I rode my bike everywhere and walked 5 miles a day on the track at the Y and walked the beach whenever I could.  A lot of things changed in my body including muscle mass. It doesn’t take long for it to become flabby.

I never really had a chance to get that flab under control as my cancer was followed by a car accident that left me with a back that would require three surgeries over the next few years. After each one I would start out walking the neighborhood with my walker. One of my sisters would stand at the end of the street and holler, “Run Forest, run!” at me. I would have to get as far as her to shut her up.

When I lived in Oshawa I found a beautiful system of paths which I have shared here in previous posts and continued to walk 5 miles a day. In Pickering I was able to get my 5 miles in by walking to the waterfront every morning. During the winter months walking at the local malls filled the gap. Then came the fall. Literally, I fell and did quite a bit of damage including a pretty scary head injury. Things would never quite be the same.

Our next move was to the 30th floor of a high rise in Etobicoke. Although it was beautiful apartment in a lovely building, the neighborhood was not the kind you went for walks in. It was scary. Cue the pandemic. (I feel there should be some dun, dun, dun, dunnn dramatic music when I say that). We were trapped on that 30th floor. The only time I left the building was for cancer treatment until that was put on hold as well. We had an approximately 3′ X 4′ balcony which was our source of fresh air and sunshine. Needless to say, like many experienced, there was again physical deterioration.  As soon as it was possible we moved back to our home area where we had family and friends and didn’t even consider anything that wasn’t ground level.

All of this, so you know I am not lazy, or don’t care and that I have always tried to keep fit. Every time I hit a barrier I would find away around, through or over. It would take time, patience and will power but eventually muscle memory would kick in and that would help.

So, I’m back to “walking” the neighbourhood. It’s a lovely neighborhood and very friendly. I started out with a walker and have graduated to a cane. My distance and speed are…I am being kind to myself here…slow and steady.  But I have to tell you, I don’t see me getting to my 5 miles a day. It appears my muscle memory is gone. There is no temporary amnesia going on here it is a full blown case of Alzheimer!

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Cast Of Characters

Yes, I miss the beautiful area I recently left. It has been a huge adjustment, going from a spacious house near the waterfront to a big city high rise. I miss walking in all the beauty that was around me. Sure, there are treadmills down in the exercise rooms but it’s hardly the same. What I miss most, however, is the cast of characters I would see every day. Some I got to know—we would chat along the way until they could no longer tolerate matching my slow speed and they would be off. Some I just saw and amused myself making up stories about them.

The Black Queen – Selita is a beautiful black lady with the most enchanting smile. Even her name was beautiful. She moved with the grace and poise of royalty,  and always made a point of greeting me like I was a celebrity.

The Nun – She work at the Jesuit Spiritual Renewal Centre in Pickering. I swear she only comes up to my right boob (we all know it hangs lower than my boobette). And she’s so fast! There’s no way I could keep up with her little legs. She would always have to stop to talk to me. I don’t know how she did it, but even on the most hot and humid days she was fully clad in her heavy, dark brown habit.

The Celebrity – It took me awhile to figure it out but one of the women I talked to every day was someone quite well-known in the area. I had never seen her without her makeup, hair and wardrobe done to perfection. She was sweet and demure, always happy as she struggled to keep her two dogs (one almost bigger than her) under control. If it wasn’t for the fact that HeWho always had a crush on her she may have stayed incognito for ever. We were looking…ok, I was looking, HeWho was drooling…at one of her publicity shots when it clicked. She was the woman I talked to every morning. The revelation almost got HeWho walking with me.

The Nerd – We had a lot in common. We both worked from home and spent way too much time at our computers. I got to know her the best, as our chats were the longest and most personal.

White Dawg – A lovely man with a big white dog. He always showed a quick wit. He had a twinkle in his eye that you knew meant he could stir up trouble.

The Stretchers – Two very attractive young women who spent a great deal of time stretching. I never saw them walking or running, or anything else for that matter. They would stop their flexing to offer me an encouraging word or compliment on how much I was improving.

The Picnic People – When I walked along Frenchmen’s Bay I would see this elderly couple having a picnic. A full-blown breakfast picnic. They had the wicker basket and red gingham table cloth. Real glasses & silverware. He was dressed casually, but with a tie. She wore a lovely summer dress.  It was a picture right out of a 1950’s glossy magazine. They chatted, laughed and looked at each other like teenagers in love. I often felt like a voyeur watching them.

The Fishermen – There were all sizes and ages of anglers. They all had different gear and their favourite spots. Every one of them would give you a hearty, “Good Morning!” But nothing more. They were serious about their fishing.

Poke E Man – One morning the Boardwalk was just crazy with young people of a generation that are rarely out of bed at that time unless it was a school day. They were moving around erratically, holding their smart phones in front of them. It took me a few minutes but I figured it out. They were playing Pokemon Go. I approached one of them and it was confirmed that there had been a sighting. People were flocking in to capture a Pikachu, or whatever. My knowledge of the game stops there.

Frosty & Kilo –  On the coldest of days I would run into a wonderful character in a 3-wheeled, motorized chair and his beautiful dog, Kilo. It was anyones guess who was walking who. You could physically see the love between this dog and his human. The stories this weathered veteran told were well worth a stop and listen. His full grey beard would have icicles hanging off it but it never seemed to bother him. He was always cheerful and entertaining.

Nancy Boy – He calls me Nancy every time he sees me even though I tell him at least twice a week that my name is Michelle. He always looks surprised and says,  “Wow! I wasn’t even close”.

Neon Man – You could see him from a mile away. He always wore shiny neon yellow or green body suits and I would want to don sunglasses as he approached. There would be a smile (almost as bright as his suits) and a wave and off he’d go.

The Foreign Prince – I never quite figured out where he was from. He was very exotic looking and meticulously groomed. Well spoken with an accent I couldn’t place. He always had time for a chat and then he would be on his way.

It was quite the cast of characters. Always friendly, entertaining and encouraging.

The standout in this play, however, was the scenery. We all felt privileged to have it available to us and counted ourselves very lucky. Early one morning I found an arm of my route quite different. Someone had decorated the little pier in a mysterious way. The decorations were beautiful, very detailed and looked to be hand-made. As each of my fellow walkers/runners joined me, we all stood slightly stunned. It seemed almost reverent, but in this entire cast of characters not one of us had a clue what it was all about. I still have no idea. I did, however, take pictures.

Somewhere in the blogosphere I know someone can solve the mystery. I would love to know!

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My Boob Pocket

I could have been rich, I tell you, I could have been rich! I knew it as soon as I saw it on Pinterest.

You see, several years ago I had a run in with breast cancer. I put in the obligatory year of treatment including the required surgery, chemotherapy and radiation. When the year was over there were a couple of things that stuck with me. One is that it became my reference for time. I now often refer to things as “BC.” Some people use this same time reference, but they mean “Before Children.” In my case, it is “Before Cancer.” Secondly, when the process began, I was a fairly well-endowed woman. But, when it was all said and done, I was left with one boob and one boobette™ (as I like to call it).

Now don’t ask me exactly when it happened, but at some point I started stuffing things in the leftover space. Yeah. That’s right – in the left over space on the boobette’s™ side of my bra. At first I was discrete. I would sneak in my change purse, or my cell phone, or my keys ― just when it wasn’t convenient to carry a purse and I wasn’t wearing anything with pockets. But before long I was carrying all three in there … at the same time … on a regular basis! I can honestly tell you there are few things that did not find their way in there.

The first time I went public, I was in line with a friend in the cafeteria at work. We were in the middle of a conversation when the cashier told me how much I owed her. Without thinking, I reached into my bra, pulled out my wallet and took out my debit card. My side of the conversation did not stop until I noticed my friend blushing at the cashier. I realized what I had done by the look on her face. “Oh. Sorry. That’s just my boob pocket,” was my response to “the look” as I stuffed the wallet back where it came from.

After that, my boob pocket (and a few urban legends that started circulating about it) became public knowledge. I would often move around throughout the work day, from upstairs offices to downstairs studios, green rooms, cafeterias, board rooms, tape libraries and master control. Just as often, I would leave something behind in one of those spots and have to retrace my steps. There wasn’t a room in the place that I couldn’t enter and say, “I can’t find my keys, phone, or whatever … did I leave them here?” and be met with the response: “Did you check your boob pocket?” More often than not, that is exactly where the missing item would be.

The only person who was still uncomfortable with it was “He-Who.” He did not like to talk about it. I will tell you, however, that he is continually handing me stuff and asking me to put it in my purse for him. I could get away with a clutch if it wasn’t for all the stuff I carry in my purse for him. But … he has yet to ask, even once, for me to put something in my boob pocket.

But here is my point. While wasting time researching on Pinterest, I came across a picture that left me with my mouth agape. LuLuLemon has created the ultimate boob pocket bra. It has not 1, not 2, not 3, but 7 pockets for all your essentials.

Seriously, I could have been rich. I did it first!

You may know that walking is now a regular part of my regimen. Well, I had been walking 5K every day and once again was having problems figuring how to carry the stuff I wanted to carry. Have you noticed how hot it’s been this summer! Minimal clothing was the only way to go. No extras like a backpack or a fanny pack were acceptable. There were no pockets in my workout clothes. It was time to get creative again. As it happens, I have a plethora of T-shirts and I don’t wear T-shirts. They are hot, unflattering, and I find them uncomfortable around my neck.

In fact, every year I walk with a team in the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run For The Cure.

My Mom died from breast cancer when I was 12, I am a survivor and one of my sisters is as well. It was my sister who started our team. We participate every year and every year we get a t-shirt. But I have never worn any of these t-shirts. Until now.

First, I cut off the sleeves and snipped the neckline. Then I sewed the sleeves onto the front of the shirt creating pockets. Each pocket has lots of room for my phone, keys, ID, a change purse and my inhaler. Just remember, you saw it here first!

This idea may not make me rich but it sure saved me some money on buying special clothing to walk in. Go ahead and dig out those old t-shirts you aren’t wearing and make your own fashion statement while you work out. Oh, and if you want to share some of that money you save with this clever idea and support a good cause while you’re at it, feel free to check out my sponsor page and donate.

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Living Next Door To William H. Macy

Today I saw the salmon “run” and it was amazing! I had never witnessed this before and found it fascinating. There were thousands of them! The mass of salmon was so thick it did indeed look like they were running a marathon and they were jumping and crawling over each other to get ahead. Now, please don’t get the idea that I am taking an interest because I am any kind of angler. I have been fishing twice in my life and only once caught a fish. Ok, I didn’t really catch it. It was a catfish and when I reeled it in it turned out I had hit it over the head with my cast and the hook had stuck in the top of its head.

The thing is, I almost missed this miracle of nature because I live next door to William H. Macy. No, I am not talking about the William H. Macy in Fargo, Marmaduke, Wild Hogs or Pleasantville. No, no, no! I am talking about the William H. Macy of Shameless.

Yes, my neighbor bares a remarkable resemblance to Frank Gallagher in more ways than one.

In the just over a year I have lived here, He-Who and I have been regaled with tales of the neighborhood ― all the dangers and terrors and weirdness that is abundant where we live. Not knowing anything about the area, we took all these stories to heart and pretty much stayed indoors. Then, in June, I started walking. Always in the bright of day, I would do 5k, sticking to the main streets and crossing with the lights. And every day I walked by the entrance to a trail that was just steps from my front door. 138 steps to be precise. That’s right, I counted. Of course our “Frank” told us about all the horrible things that happen on that trail so I stayed off it.  On the other hand, twice in one week I witnessed vehicles whose drivers had lost control and ended up on the sidewalk. One of those times I was very lucky that the light turned red, stopping me just as I was about to step into the street. Had I made it across the road I would have wound up under that car.

These things make He-Who nervous. He was getting antsy about my walks, especially because I was threatening to widen my horizons. Finally, He-Who decided that he would accompany me and we would brave the evil trail.

He-Who Braves The Trail

This was no ordinary path. It was beautiful. It was well kept, clean and paved. Surely this could not be the trail “Frank” had talked about. We walked for a ways in one direction and then turned around. We passed our starting point and went a wee bit in the opposite direction before He-Who left me to continue on my own and returned home. The next day he joined me again and went the entire 5k with me. I think I broke him as he pretty much slept the rest of the day, while I did some research on my computer. It turns out my trail is one of 22 paved pathways in Oshawa.

Oshawa’s Trail system totals almost 27 km of paved surface that provides citizens and visitors with opportunities for physical activity such as walking, running, cycling, rollerblading or bird watching. A safe and environmentally friendly way of getting to and from work, school, shopping, or a nearby park, the trails are a great place to gather and enjoy the outdoors with friends and family.

Now, that may sound like it is right out of a brochure … well, actually it is.

My trail is called the Joseph Kolodzie Oshawa Creek Bike Path and it is 7 km from start to finish. I love it!

Surrounded by lush vegetation this paved path meanders along the picturesque Oshawa Creek valley with connections to Downtown Oshawa. The creek is home to the spring and fall trout and salmon runs.

I can vouch for the lush vegetation as you can see from the pictures.

The path and bridges are very well-built and maintained.

Cyndi Walking with Aunty “M”

Benches and garbage containers are placed generously along the sides of the path. Grass is trimmed and waste receptacles are emptied.

The paths are monitored by police officers on bicycles so safety is not an issue. Oh, have I mentioned that this trail ends at a lovely sandy beach?

 

Every day I see families walking and biking; exercisers running, walking and cycling; couples taking leisurely strolls; and anglers fishing. I have yet to see any of the horrors I had been told existed on the trail.  There is even a Trail Users Code:

• Motorized vehicles are not permitted.
• Please stay on the paved trail.
• Hunting is not permitted.
• Abide by the signs regarding permitted trail use.
• Cyclists must keep right, use a bell or verbal indication when passing, travel at moderate speed, use caution around pedestrians and dismount when crossing streets.
• Keep right to allow others to pass.
• Keep the trails clean. Use the trash receptacles provided.
• Keep pets on a leash.
• Leave flowers, plants and trees for others to enjoy.
• Respect and protect our natural resources.

And now I can also attest to the abundance of salmon.  It was something to see. Battling up stream, building up a head of steam as they launched their attack on the current, the rocks and the rapids, these Chinooks were amazing.

Oshawa Creek Before Salmon Run

There are times when I just get sick of hearing people say “you can’t” or “don’t do that”.  Sometimes you just have to find out for yourself and leave the urban legends to the William H. Macys next door. No matter how great a neighbour they are.

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It’s Time to Move Again

A little over a year ago we moved from a 3 bedroom, 1 floor condo, west of Toronto, to a 3 bedroom, 3 floor house east of Toronto. The move was a little over 100 km. With Toronto being in the middle it might as well have been 1000 km. When I lived west of Toronto it was nothing to “run home” to Niagara Falls for a couple of hours to visit family and friends. That drive across the top of Toronto can add anywhere from 1 – 3 hrs. (depending on the traffic) to my trip home now. Needless to say those visits are much less frequent.

So, why did we move? Well, our business was in the Durham Region and those treks from west to east on a daily basis were damaging us and our business. I really liked our condo. We had been in it for 8 years. It was, however, beginning to look less and less like a home. Everywhere I turned there was business stuff. Not just in the office. It was in the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, the bedroom and yes, even the bathroom (don’t ask).  We found this house and I liked it right away. But, the thing that sold me was when we opened the basement door and went downstairs. The basement had already been made into an office space! With cupboards and a sink and plenty of room for our business!  I was so happy as we brought everything in, because if it had “office” written on it, it went downstairs.  I now had a living space and a working space and I could come upstairs at the end of the day and close the door and that was that.

A recent visit to Dr. A had her a little concerned with my well being.  I have gained weight and have been struggling with getting rid of it.  I have a Gazelle exercise machine set up so I can take breaks from the computer and get some exercise, but doesn’t seem to be helping. The good Doctor suggested we run some blood tests and that I should walk for 20 minutes every day.  I looked at the sheet she handed to me to see what she was testing.  As I drove home I did some thinking. One of the things she checked off were my Vitamin D levels. Hmmm, if I am not mistaken (it happens on a rare occasion) Vitamin D is the “sunshine vitamin”.  It then occurred to me that I actually rarely see sunshine.  The first 6 months we lived here I would accompany He-Who* on the front porch or the back deck for some “fresh air” (as we call it in my family) otherwise known as a smoke break.  In January I got really sick and stopped doing this.  I stopped going outside.  By the time I got home I had figured out that although I had a great working space there was something missing.  Windows. All the windows were in the laundry room side of the basement. It was lovely and bright in the laundry room.  It was dark and dismal in the office part.  Could it be I was just not getting enough sunshine and fresh air?

The first day I tentatively walked around the block. It took me 15 minutes.  I was not that familiar with the territory so I kept my head down and went a little further each day and then would see how long it took me.  I went to 38 minutes, then 45, then 50 until I finally made it to just a little over an hour.  An hour is my goal each day hopefully picking up speed as I carry on.  I have also incorporated it into other things I have to do.  I needed an oil change so I drove my car to the shop, dropped it off and walked a half-hour in one direction and then a half-hour back to my car. He-Who does the grocery shopping, so the other day I went with him.  When he went into the store I started walking towards home. An hour later he picked me up on his way home from the store.

We live in the downtown area. It is a little rough around the edges and sometimes a little intimidating. The other day I accidentally lifted my head while walking the usual route and noticed these…

A brazen glance to the left and I saw these…

…then to the right there were these…

It was head up and eyes all over the place after that. How could I have been walking past all this and not noticed it?  I walk with 1 piece of ID and my cell so I started taking pictures with my phone…

There was a lot I was missing as I scurried along my route. We have lived here a year and I find myself coming home and saying things to He-Who, like, “Did you know there was a big city pool behind us? With a big park behind it? I saw families playing!”

I am not Anglican but I have to tell you this sign made me stop. I read it twice before I took the picture. I quite like what it has to say.

I walked past several fire hydrants that were hand-painted. I will have to do some investigating to find out the story behind them. This one was my favourite.

This is a General Motors town. I have passed this place every day. Several years ago I worked on a documentary about GM in St. Catharines. Some day when I am not all hot and sweaty, I will go in.

Last weekend I heard music, people laughing and a lot of activity (of course this was “pre-looking up” walking). It turns out there is a beautiful bandstand with seating and a lovely park.

The sides of the bandstand are made of these panels…

and there is this wonderful monument beside it.

I have blisters, bites and sunburn but I feel better than I have in months and as it turns out there is lots to see on my walks.  All I had to do was get up, go outside, get some sunshine, fresh air and move again. Thanks Dr. A.

*Recently a friend referred to He Who Shall Remain Nameless For His Own Protection as He-Who because as she stated, “I can call him that because we are on a first name basis”.  Well, I’m on a first name basis with him too (at least for the time being) so He-Who it is!

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