Physically Fit in 6 minutes per Week

When information is presented to you which is the information you need right now, it can be nothing but proof that the Universe is connected to you in a personal and unique way.  Yesterday, a Sunday, a day for not doing too much, the telly was on while I attempted Technique #2 Wet on Wet with water soluble coloured pencils.  The ABC's Catalyst was on.  And the information it had was a showstopper.  Richard was doing the after lunch dishes.  I called him in to watch it. 

You can find the transcript or video here :  http://www.abc.net.au/catalyst/stories/4319131.htm 

The program was about the benefits of doing six minutes of flat chat cardio a week.  Not six minutes all at once but twelve 30 second sprints.  Sprints on the bike or running up hill or whatever.  It all has to do with improving mitochondrial function in the cells.

Narration
"In fact, in all of us, mitochondrial function gradually declines as time wears on."

Professor Mark Tarnopolsky
"Although they're very efficient at repairing themselves, eventually we can't keep up and the cells start to drop off in energy. When they drop off in energy, they lose their resilience and the cells end up dying and we can't replace our cells."


Professor Mark Tarnopolsky
"More recently, we've discovered that there can be acquired mitochondrial dysfunction that can occur in the presence of more common diseases such as Alzheimer's, obesity, type 2 diabetes and, in fact, human ageing has even been linked to mitochondrial dysfunction."

But, happily, research has shown that going flat out, to quote one of the researchers, as though you are running for your life, can reduce or reverse many of the effects of aging. 

This is huge.  Enormous.  Literally life changing.  And Richard watched it with me.  We are going to the gym 3 times a week so the basis is already there.  Now to convince him that he needs to start going hard at it.

He just came in and I outlined a plan.  If he tries to go flat chat for 30 seconds four times tomorrow he won't.  It will be too hard and the experiment will be over before we've started.  We've worked out that he will try to go 5 seconds as hard as he can four times.  Then on Friday, he'll try for 7 seconds (or 10 if the 5 second attempt wasn't that hard).  At any rate, build up to the 30 second interval. 

This is so exciting.  Kept giving thanks for the information, that we were there at the right time to catch this episode of Catalyst.

There was another bit of information which was interesting.  I've wondered why I have this spare tyre around my middle that I can't shake.  I'm pretty active, my weight is ok (55kg for 5'4") yet this ring of fat sits around my waist.  Catalyst explained that it is because of menopause.  It's common in menopausal women to have 'visceral fat', bad fat because it coats my internal organs.  And it doesn't look good either and makes fitting clothes that bit more difficult.  This explains much for it seemed to appear out of nowhere and my basic shape, that I've lived with all my adult life, had significantly changed without  the changes in my eating/exercise habits to account for it.

I'd already started, not knowing what I was doing, 15 second 'sprints' on the cross trainer, first legs, then next 15 seconds, arms, with 15 seconds of light exercise in between.  Yesterday, before watching the program, I upped it to 20 second sprints with 20 second rest in between.  Tomorrow I may go for 30 seconds - although I'm not sure I'm fit enough to go as hard as I can for a full 30 seconds.  Maybe, like Richard, I'll build up to it and try for 25 seconds.  At any rate I'll try.

I am so excited about this as I suspect this will really help allay the effects of Parkinsons in Richard and if I'm correct in thinking he has the beginning of Alzheimers, it will help that too.  There is hope for us after all.  Our future is looking much brighter.  Thank you Universe.

Richard has been to get a CT scan of his brain as well as an ultrasound of his carotid arteries.  All was well.  So there is no obvious physical explanation for his deterioration. 
      I wasn't going to write about this but it is so much on my mind and no none reads this anyway - and even if they did - what great secrets am I imparting?  It is more important for me to have a place to speak frankly than to safeguard secrets that aren't secrets to anyone who knows us. 
      We went to another town yesterday to run some errands.  While there we looked in some opportunity shops for work sweatshirts and trousers for him.  He was so dull, so helpless, sometimes reminding me of a windup doll that has wound down until prompted to do something else.  He'd stand in the aisle unmoving, or absently fingering a sweatshirt without really doing anything, almost as though he needed permission - or a push.  I'd say what about this or this or this?  Try this on.  What do you think of this one?    I wanted to shout, as I so often do, Wake Up!  Come Back!  Everything he does is done slowly.  He gets out of the car like he's 86 rather than 66.  He walks slowly - unless we're walking the dogs and then he can hook along quite well - he fumbles with his wallet to pay or has to really think things through to use his card.
      The other day I asked him if he'd given seed to the birds.  In the afternoon, when we pull the pellets and water dishes, we always give the galahs a few seeds as a treat and some millet seed on the stem to Dimitri.  No, he said, I thought you'd given it to them earlier.  When?  Earlier in the day.  Why would you think that?  Because you were down here.  Yes, I was down there - about lunch time.  Yesterday I mentioned the chairs we bought a few months ago.  The much loved much longed for Art Deco Club Chairs.  What chairs, he asked.  You know, the chairs.  He stared at me.  I could almost see the wheels grinding slowly around but the gears didn't mesh.  So I explained to him what chairs I meant.  Oh, those chairs.  I thought you meant kitchen chairs, dining room chairs, not those chairs. 
     They are the only chairs we've bought in years.  It's a minor thing but it's a telling example of what occurs with frightening regularity.
     I think Helen, Richard's friend of 30 years, his ex partner when he was in the drug squad, is annoyed that I'm not pushing him to have more tests or go see a psychiatrist.  I understand.  Despite the clean bill of health from the CT scan and ultrasound, something is going on.  But Richard is now quite annoyed if the subject comes up.  If I tried to get him to go see yet another person I suspect he'd dig in his heels.  He asserts, and it's true, that he's done everything required of him.  He's seeing a nutritionist and doing the exercises required.  He has gone to the doctor with my complaints (not his, he is certain nothing is wrong and that he's as sharp as ever) and followed up with the scans.  He has even gone to Tai Chi as of Monday.  That might be the making of things. 
      I found Tai Chi very difficult when I first learned it.  You are asking your body to move in unaccustomed ways which while not physically demanding is hard mentally.  That's why it's called a moving meditation.  It takes total concentration.  He's going to move mental muscles he hasn't had to in quite some time.
      So I'm trying to remain positive.  We're on a roll to get the house ready and move closer to the sea.  As I wrote to Helen, I feel as though I'm on a deadline.  Get all the hard work done before .... before what?  Before he loses it completely?  Yes, that's my fear.  That he has Alzheimers.  I thought that would show up on a scan so as there was nothing seen it is a relief.  Still, still....   So get the house ready to sell, find another place suitable for all of our furred and feathered family as close to the sea as we can afford to be.  We won't wait for the quarry to start.  We'll do this now while we can.  We've been here for 22 years.  The next move will be the last one. 
      I remind myself daily how fortunate I am.  And I am.  Right now, everything is fine and there's no point in scaring myself stupid by thinking about what might happen.  Today, this moment, it's gravy. 

I spend alot of time vacillating between calm acceptance bordering on a simmering joy and a low grade anxiety bordering on fear.  On the one hand I know that I will never be given something I can't handle.  Even death.  Death has only one outcome and you can't fail.  On the other hand, I am afraid, just afraid.  I suspect Richard not only has Parkinsons but the beginnings of Alzheimers.  There, I've said it.  I've made manifest my deepest fear.  By saying it do I make it true?  Of give it more of a reality than it has now?  Conversely, to pretend I don't notice how he has changed isn't very smart either. 

The changes are little.  Forgetting to close the feedroom gate so that the horses have a real feast.  I furtively check that he's closed it now.  Not rinsing his toothbrush so food debris is stuck not only in the bristles but on the handle.  Asking questions he has always known the answer to, that he hasn't even had to question before.  Asking the same question several times.  Needing reassurance, lots of reassurance, about little things.  Also, a kind of turning inwards.  When we walked yesterday (he's coming part of the way now, just past the Pedersens's) I pointed out a sun dog.  Did you see it, I asked.  No.  Did you look?  No.  Do you know what one is?  No.  So I explained (again) what a sun dog was and pointed it out to him.  Richard wasn't really interested. 

On the plus side, he is building an aviary.  That require math and measuring and accuracy and he's doing a brilliant job.  No major mistakes, it's coming together beautifully.  Since he's started it he's napping less.  He complains about chores and jobs and projects but I suspect he needs them.  He needs to be needed.  So, I'm going to keep giving him projects.  There are lots of them.  They aren't as major as the aviary but anything to keep him involved with life. 

He's very chuffed because on Sunday it's Grandfather's Day at Marnie's school.  He's going.  What do I have to do, he asked.  Just be there and love them.  He does get anxious about things that didn't used to bother him. 

It's odd because sometimes he's so engaged and energized, he is as he always was.  Other times I want to shake him and shout, "Wake up!"

We will make a final decision about the house on July 31.  Shanahan is putting the quarry up for sale.  That would be good news but if someone with lots of $$ buys it meeting the imposed conditions won't be an impediment.  The inheritance is coming through (the timing of that seems to indicate it's time to move on) so we will have a few more options of where and what kind of house we live in.  Moving may be the best thing to do for Richard too.  Out of a rut with new sights and sounds and people.  Might make a huge difference.

I know I'm up to it.  When I'm tired I don't feel as optimistic.  Usually, however I trust that the Universe provides me with everything I need, including strength.