We Dare You to be Sensible

Need a nudge? That's like asking do you need a few extra bucks.
Everybody I know needs a little, or a lot, of both. Today, for
example, I could use a stack of hundreds and someone with a big stick
to drag me to the gym. Instead, Laree and I will drag each other and
have fun in the process.

We are two of the many determined IronOnliners who have decided to
make a difference in their lives by the end of the year (he's sounding
like a TV commercial). And you, too, can be an iron-made,
steel-spirited winner. United we stand, bombers: Make muscle, lose fat
and get ripped, be bigger, stronger and faster -- the choice is up to
you. (He's serious -- this is embarrassing).

As you know, the Great IronOnline End of Year Challenge has just begun
-- Monday, the day before yesterday, to be exact. But exact is not
important, not in our broad field of endeavor. We're loose and we're
cool; we're bold, bound and determined.

Join the IOL gang whenever you get the urge, when the pressure becomes
too much to bear, when you feel like a loser standing on the lonely
and conspicuous sidelines observing the action, when you notice your
muscles shriveling and your bulk jiggling and your joints stiffening
while shuffling about -- a mere spectator, when beaming men, women and
children energetically pass you by, and a thin film of dust settles on
your perspiration-free forehead and carefully coiffed hair as you
safely watch the fun and games, and, perhaps, before it's too late to
enjoy the exhilarating, fulfilling and fruitful journey ahead should
you act now. Take your time. What's the rush? It'll be over be ya know
it.

Laree has estimated 50 IOL members have committed to participate in
the challenge; that is, they are standing up and being counted, and
logging on the forum. And we suspect at least that many are engaged
privately and hovering in the shadows. I understand. I'm a shadowy
character, myself. Give me a shadow and I'm there, crouched, face
smeared with camouflage paint, whispering and using hand signals.

However, those who log on weekly, the open and forward ones, reap the
most delicious and abundant fruits of the adventure. Accountability
and visibility work. Risk -- daring -- is part of the attitude that
sets us in motion, propels us ahead and thrusts us over obstacles. I'm
me, such as I am, and I'm moving on, I'm moving up, I'm moving out.

Step up, log on. It's simple. It's informative, insightful and
effectual. You're instantly more involved, more committed, more
curious and more aware without being exposed or burdened or guarded.
The light of day enables you to see what you're doing, and what you're
doing gets done, more easily, more certainly and more cheerfully.
Furthermore, you encourage and assist accompanying bombers as they
help you.

It's Bomber Power!

We get downright lackadaisical and simpering when bombarded by daily
living. Up in the morning and catch a ride on the roller coaster,
buckle up and hold on, inhale a lungful of toxins and scream, absorb a
mindful of chaos and groan. Let's face it, what're the alternatives?
Duck, here it comes; Run and hide; Rant and rave; Feed your face;
Order another tall one; Play dead?

A smart alternative for safe, satisfying and far-reaching travel is to
train hard, eat right and be strong. The road ahead is full twists and
turns, steep slopes and sudden drops, and needs iron reinforcement all
along the way. Zoom, clank, rattle, zoom.

My goal is to continue my survival training through December, overcome
my current penguin-like gait, and complete my enlightening and
exuberating chelation therapy. Not exactly 20-inch-guns and barn-door
lats, but what the heck. Sometimes sticking to the straight and narrow
is the very best we can do.

Did I say survival training? I call it survival training because it is
precisely that, training devoted to surviving. Recovery is a slow
process, buckaroos. Remember the nagging tendonitis of the elbow that
had you icing and wrapping, and the miserable lower back that had you
popping ibuprophen and throwing fits? Oh, boy! How about the hernia,
the knee, the flu, the lobotomy?

Forgot about the lobotomy, did you?

Seven months ago (times flies like a lead balloon) I entered the
hospital for a CCT (cutesy cardio tweak); six month ago I entered the
gym for a body revival. I've trained three days a week since without
skipping a beat. The workouts average 90 minutes, 25 to 30 sets plus
midsection, and I push more than I should, like 90-percent max. I
don't rush, but I do push. It seems quite okay at the time, but
fatigue follows me home like a lost and angry gorilla. He hangs out
and glares.

My strength is restored and I look about the same as I did a year ago,
minus a few pounds, but my cardio-respiratory power is -- how should I
put it without sounding pessimistic? -- the pits. Yup! Deep, gaping
and frothy pits from which steam and smoke belch in thunderous
episodes.

I can gauge a workout and train hard, but a flight of stairs makes a
hunky monkey out of my angry gorilla. I have reenlisted the aid of the
spin bike to attend the heart, lungs and circulation, but it's too
early to determine its value. Perhaps more than two sessions are
required.

Excuse me, kids, I'm a little blue. Must be the early signs of winter:
dull grey skies, chilly and wet. I mimic my surroundings like a
chameleon. My skin, come to think of it, is looking a lot like the
little lizard's as well.

[I'm pretending to be weak, to have a dark side. This is difficult,
near impossible, but I must maintain an appearance of real-world
credibility. And, too, I cannot help but consider your comfort. If I'm
always up, you'll sense the contrast between us and find me
obnoxious.... Well, thanks a lot, pal. I think you just might have a
small attitude problem.]

Another concern is the darting pains in my thighs that have me limping
like race horse after one too many laps around the winner's circle
(easy, big fella, have some oats). The affliction, you might recall,
has been partially diagnosed as peripheral artery disease, or PAD, and
I've sought intravenous EDTA chelation therapy as a treatment. An
impressive pool of renowned cardiologists and cardiovascular
researchers highly commend the process for heart and vascular disease
recovery. Chelation before surgery is their mantra.

davedraper.com/url/edta-chelation.php

As promised, here's a brief update of my dazzling and exciting
therapy: I've completed 18 of 40 three-hour IV treatments administered
twice weekly. They're not painful and I ruthlessly kill time resting,
reading or searching for keys on my laptop. I'd rather be performing
acrobatics or stacking my gold bullion, but a guy's gotta do what a
guy's gotta do. There have been no evident changes in pain, energy or
well-being, though blood tests indicate improvement in certain
markers. Something's happening somewhere.

Fact is, nothing substantial is expected until the full treatment has
been administered, or some time (weeks) later. I knew this going in
and have found the process to be a test of resilience, patience and
faith. Insurance doesn't cover the costs and I've found a swell space
under the Santa Cruz Town Clock to set up a beach chair and beg. Hey,
buddy... got a dime... 1,500 dimes to be exact?

My next option is an MRI and a peak at the lower back and its
associated discs. Hmm!

Limping is rhythmic, rather attractive and your world view takes on
new motion. I've been looking at the latest in lightweight and sporty
walkers. Zoom-Zoom makes a cool model, fully adjustable with leather
handles, hydraulic shocks and a horn that sounds like a Buick.

Anything will do... Just get me to the B-29 on time to climb and I'm
fine.

Go... Godspeed... Dave

Source: davedraper.com