Spring Thaw

Early spring.  Melting snow, river over its banks, potholes.  Bird song, sap flowing, the faint reddish haze of millions of tiny buds in the trees, and intrepid daffodil greenery poking up through the sodden soil if you look closely.  I've learned to love these teasers of what's just around the corner, to love the turn as much as the destination. 

Lots to look forward to.  Cleaning out the flower beds, waterproofing the deck, cleaning the bird feeders and putting out fresh seed, cooking outside on the grill, longer days, walks in the neighborhood, outside dining on Main Street at any one of the wonderful cafes and restaurants found there, jazz on the patio at the Gandy Dancer, spring flowers and flowering trees in bloom, spring cleaning, white wine.  So much goodness to savor.  So much to cherish. 

Why is it, do you think, that the older I get the more I notice and appreciate the minute changes as seasons transition?  This appreciation has grown over the last couple of years and the tragic events of this past week have only intensified these feelings.  As I think on it, everything is always in transition.  Nothing really stays the same and each change, whether the gradual changes of seasons or the sudden changes wrought by horrific events, should be reminders to us to live in the moment with preparedness for the next.  Maybe that is the answer to my question.  Maybe it took almost sixty-two years to learn it.

 

Exsurpise at Sixty Plus

Here I am sixty-one going on sixty-two and I am doing something I never did before -- exercising.  Well, that's not exactly true.  Over the years I've done the aerobic thing and the running thing and the yoga thing.  I've sweated to the oldies but prior to July this past year I never lifted weights or worked with a personal trainer.  I'm doing both regularly now. 

My workout lasts an hour and during that time my trainer puts my body through the wringer.  A warm-up on the treadmill, leg work, upper body work, crunches, balance  and stability work, and stretches are all a part of the routine.  I sweat and I pant through this and I never look as happy as any of the folks in the photos below!  My happiness comes when I put on my street clothes and head for home.

At home I work with two and three and four pound weights.  With my trainer, I have progressed up to twelve pounds.  Doesn't sound like much, does it?  But believe me, it took hard work to get that far. 

The trainer helps me do these exercises with good form.  Who knew?  I've learned that to get the maximum from my efforts, form matters.  And believe me, for the money I'm paying I want to get the maximum!

Something I really love about working with a trainer is that she tailors my routine to my age, my condition, and my needs.  Balance?  I figured I was doing pretty well.  After all, I haven't fallen except years ago when my dog wrapped his leash around my legs.  But the things she has me do have challenged me and I definitely can tell I'm much more stable on my feet.  Winter ice offers little challenge for me now.  When I do feel myself slipping, I can tell I regain my footing ever so much more quickly.  And doing exercises using equipment that promotes a bit of instability?  Never heard of such a thing prior to working with my trainer.  And yet, it's clear to me that having to maintain stability while doing a variety of exercises uses more muscles with less effort and thus, results in greater returns and less fatigue.

When I first started exercising, it was suggested that I walk on the days I don't workout.  That was easy to do during the summer and through the fall but I admit that winter was an obstacle I didn't overcome.  I tried going into the gym and using their equipment but having never embraced gym in any form, I found myself making excuses to not go.  It's something I'm going to have to overcome as I just learned my cholesterol is high.  If I walk regularly and continue the workouts and watch what I eat, I know I can get it back to the normal range without having to take medication.  That's my goal. 

Funny, I workout with my trainer twice a week and am very regularly working out on my own another once or twice a week.  No problem there.  I think it's a guilt and self-preservation thing.  I refuse to spend money and not get the benefit.  Also, I'm unwilling to hurt any more than necessary and pain is what I'd feel if I didn't keep up the routine on the off days.  Before getting the blood work results, I didn't feel too guilty about not walking though.  I knew I'd get back to it once the weather warmed up.  But now?  Well, guilt and self-preservation may serve me well in this, too.  We'll see.



This lady looks a bit older than me but oh, my, what a body!  I'm hoping to have arms and abs like hers in the near future.  Crunches are probably my least liked exercises but can't argue with the results.

Squats.  Hmmmm, this is one of the form exercises.  In fact, it doesn't look to me like this lady has very good form.  Her knees should not project past her toes which can be achieved by sticking your butt out and sitting back.  Feels funny and probably looks funny, too, but I'm told better to have good form and do fewer than to do more and do them incorrectly. 

This is the part I like best -- the stretches.  Ahhhhhh...




So, while these pictures are not of me, they depict the activity I engage in three to four times a week.  At 5:45 am I crawl out of bed, brush my teeth and wash my face, put on my workout clothes and moan, groan, sweat, and pant my way through an hour of exercises.  I never thought retirement would include working out.  Ever.  Exercise exsurprise!

Spring Appeteaser

Just returned from a weeklong trip south.  When we left, the snow had melted and except for a few small patches in surface depressions, I could envision green grass and spring flowers just around the corner.  Going south only enhanced my appetite for spring.  We have had enough winter.

After numerous stops at antique malls and the artist and craft stop off the interstate in Berea, Kentucky (where, by the way, we saw daffodils just beginning to poke their heads up out of the ground), we arrived in Knoxville, Tennessee.  Somewhere along the way, I had shed my winter coat and replaced it with a blue jean jacket. 

The air was cool but held promise of warmth to come. We chose our hotel strategically to allow for walking to and from various venues.  Our hotel is in the far left lower corner of the picture above. 

Our first stop was not, however, walkable -- Patrick Sullivan's, a historic tavern established in 1888.  Supposedly members of Butch Cassidy's gang and Wild Bill Cody frequented this bar and we definitely wanted to add our names to its clientele.


The bar was all I hoped it would be -- lots of wood, the original back bar, stairs that led to the brothel that once occupied the second floor.  We enjoyed fried pickles, a sandwich, and a beer before walking around a bit in the immediate area.  We were there on Sunday night which accounted for the quiet but it was easy to see that on a Friday and Saturday, this area would definitely be a draw for anyone looking for a good time.

From Sullivan's we headed back to our hotel, parked and then walked downtown, less than six blocks away.  Yes, it was a Sunday evening but this area was much more lively.  People were taking in a show at the Tennessee and enjoying food and beverage at various restaurants along the main street.  The night air was light jacket cool and dry, a pleasant evening for walking.  Before leaving Sullivan's we had asked the bartender for her recommended destinations if she only had time for two more stops before turning in for the night.  We had already planned on the local brew pub she mentioned and she added Preservation Bar.

 
Our first stop was the Downtown Grill and Brewery.  As is our habit at brew pubs, we  sat at the bar.  Tables are fine for dining but the bar is best for meeting people and getting inside information from the bartender.  We ordered a beer sampler and were in the midst of comparing, not only one beer with another but each beer with beer we had had a other such establishments, the gentleman beside me shared his personal preferences.  We talked about beer and Knoxville for a brief while.  As he finished his drink, he wished us a good journey and headed off into the night.  For the most part, the beer was nondescript.  I preferred the IPA and Roger enjoyed the wheat beer.  Since we didn't eat there, I can't speak to the quality of the food but it sure smelled good.
 

Downtown Grill and Brewery, Knoxville, Tennessee




















Our final stop for the night, Preservation Bar, was located around the market square, just a couple blocks away.  Smaller and older and darker and smoky, it better met the standard definition of a bar.  Mostly male occupied and the bar full, we sat at a table and read the historic information posted on the walls.  Band members were coming in with their instuments getting ready for a late night show.  We may have stayed longer had the music been jazz but as it wasn't and the smoke was getting to us so we left before finishing our beer.


Outside a small impromptu band was playing in the empty square.  Had it been earlier we might have stayed to enjoy their version of southern country music.  Instead we meandered our way back to our hotel.  All in all I'd say Knoxville was a welcoming city offering picturesque architecture, good food, and the potential of a great evening if we had been there on a Friday or Saturday.  As it was, it made for a pleasant Sunday evening.

Our next stop was Atlanta, a city we've visited a number of times before.  Staying only the night, we chose to stay in Buckhead and enjoy Club 290.  Though night, the weather was warm enough to shed the jackets.  The music at Club 290 (unfortunately, I deleted the photo by accident) was Joe Gransden Big Band, seventeen members, with male vocalists -- Joe, who also played the trumpet and a guest.  Both men sang well, smooth jazz.  The guest did a nice impression of Presley and Sinatra.  The band was great.  We dined at Club 290 and enjoyed our meal though I would probably not order a steak there next time.  We stayed through the last set which is a testimony to how much we enjoyed ourselves.

The following morning we had breakfast at The Flying Biscuit.  Organic, homemade, the breakfast was good but I can't say that I enjoyed their namesake that well.  I prefer my biscuits light and flakey and this one was huge, dense, and heavy.  The taste was fine though.

After a number of antique stops, we finally pulled into Mom's driveway in Port Charlotte.  The sky was clear and the air warm.  Mom was ready and waiting for us so we didn't waste any time heading to dinner.  I love this little Italian restaurant.  The food is good.  The price is right.  And the decor is wonderful, a little Italy with a starry sky.  We were serenaded at some point with That's Amore and received a long stem rose as a souvenir.  Roger headed farther south to see his brother and I stayed to visit with Mom.  The pictures below are typical of the weather and the views.




Roger returned two days later and the following morning we were back on the road heading north.  The song talks about the difference a day makes.  I don't know about that but a week sure does.  Look at how spring has progressed as we retraced our path.


Early spring in Georgia.  The grass was green and the buds on the trees were more than a faint haze of greens and reds.  Tennessee, while not as green, now sported trees with buds ready to unfold.


We saw daffodils in bloom in Georgia and even in Tennessee.




Pansies were happily turning their faces to the sun, also.


Kentucky wasn't quite as far along but that faint haze I referred to earlier that was seen in Tennessee on our way down had made its way to Kentucky. 




So had the rain.  In Ohio, we saw lots of flooding with evidence of snow not there on our way south.






And finally, we arrived home.  Imagine our shock when we found the ground not only covered with snow but with inches of snow.  Our driveway had at least five inches!  Rather than drive in, we parked on the side of the street, got out our snow shovels, and began to clear away heavy, crusty, wet snow.  It was the hardest snow clearing job we've had to do all year but it was also necessary.  Had we tried to drive up, I'm certain we would have gotten stuck. 




So, spring isn't in Ann Arbor yet.  Today it's 40 degrees out and there is some melting taking place.  It will take a couple more days of this to once again see the ground.  I'm hoping that it's the last snow of the year and that in another week or so, I will see evidence of the hundred of daffodils we planted last fall.  As for the trip, it was great but it left me with little appetite for snow and ravenous for spring.