I am aware of my biological decay. Aging is unavoidable. I can try to beat it. I can exert myself daily. Stretch my legs, my lower back, my shoulders, my neck.
Stretch my TOEs, my fingers.
Eat well without being too neurotic about it. Sleep accordingly and refreshingly. Stay sanitary. Breathe fresh air, drink clean water. Pet Honeyed Cat.
But that isn’t going to alter certain biological indicators, certain inescapable laws, like maximum heart rate, which is and will always be a function of my age.
Although slightly non-linear, this function [roughly 220 – age] is quite accurate.
I should know.
The heart rate monitor told me that my mhr on my 3.5 mile run down the beach this evening was 192 bpm.
I am 30 years old.
220 – 30 = 190.
Believe me, I ran hard for those extra two beats. They came during interval training, when I dug into the sand and propelled myself forward in a series of thirty-sec sprints that left me breathless.
190 bpm. That’s where I am in life. That’s all my heart can muster.
And next year, around this time, that number will decrease by one. Next year, around this time, I will lose another heartbeat.
My earlobes will also be slightly larger, as will the tip of my nose.