Exercise, Can’t Do It For You?
Do It For Those Who Love You

by Darline Turner Lee, Physician Assistant, ACSM Exercise Specialist

Article Last Reviewed: Sept. 9, 2006

I drag my sorry butt up onto the treadmill. What I wouldn’t do for a few more hours of rest, but I know if I don’t do it now, it’s not going to happen. I’ll talk myself through. It’ll be over in no time.

The parameters are keyed in, three minute warm up.

I could be doing so many other things. That’s what my cousin Jeffrey used to say. Four years ago he reached up to point to a diagram on a presentation chart and dropped dead to the floor. He never regained consciousness. He was forty-three. Jeffrey was a real “go-getter”. He made a great home and family life for his wife and two kids. He was eulogized as a great co-worker and a pinnacle of the church. When it came to himself though, “there was just no time.” I suppose that’s why he grew to more than three hundred and fifty pounds and was diabetic, hypertensive and had obstructive sleep apnea. Sometimes I wonder if his wife Sherry and the kids would have really minded if Jeffrey took an hour or so each day and exercised? I’m sure they’d have gladly given him two hours if it meant that he’d be here now and not gone forever.

The treadmill ramp begins to rise.

I wonder what granddaddy would think of me with my big old pregnant belly up here on the treadmill? His was truly a light that went out too soon. At sixty-two, my beloved granddaddy went out to clear snow with the snow blower and collapsed. The paramedics worked on him for nearly forty-five minutes, but the doctors believe that he died instantly from a massive coronary. He always said that he was going to rest when he retired. He died six months before his retirement day and he never got to take a cruise or to spend his days fishing. He missed seeing his first great grandson by just twenty-two hours. He was so excited about his impending arrival. The excessive weight, smoking, diabetes and arthritis finally took their toll. I can hardly believe he’s been gone for twenty-two years.

The treadmill belt is speeding up. Just keep taking deep breaths and it’ll be over soon.

But what’s worse, dropping dead in an instant or dying a slow, agonizing death like Nanny did? For six years diabetes had its way with her until she died two weeks shy of her seventy-first birthday. She lost her eyesight, then sensation in her hands and feet. Her kidneys shut down and dialysis four times a week kept her alive-until she finally refused to go. There were mini strokes and silent heart attacks…I think the final insult came the day that the nursing home attendant wiped her butt and changed her diaper with me, her youngest granddaughter, standing right there. I turned away, but I’ll never forget her expression of mortified embarrassment. It was one of the last times that I saw her alive. I used to try to get Nanny to walk with me. She never would. She’d always say, “You go and I’ll wait here.” The wait is over.

I can feel the blood pulsing in my temples, but I don’t want to slow down. I can’t slow down. I’m forty. When I am sixty, my children will only be twenty-three and twenty. I have to see them graduate from college. I want to see them get married and have children of their own. I don’t want to be like Jeffrey, gone before my children even reach puberty. I love my sister and my sister-in-law, but I’ll be damned if they are going to raise my kids! Those are MY babies! I’m going to be here for every step, performance and achievement.

Then there’s my mother-in-law, whose eyes fill with small watery pools each time she talks about my father-in-law. It’s been two years since his death and her voice still wavers when she speaks of her love, her soul mate of forty-three years. He passed away in his sleep on the morning of their fortieth anniversary. He was sixty-one. We were there for the party that never happened. My husband and I awoke with a start when she shrieked, “Daddy’s not waking up!” I forced his already cool, tight jaws apart. Even though I knew that I was too late, I still tried-in vain.

The treadmill belt is finally slowing. Up to five minutes to cool down.

There have been so many losses, so much pain and sadness. I wonder if given the chance to do it all again if any of these dear ones would make the effort to live their lives differently? Would they take the time and make exercise a priority? Would they be able to see that it’s not just themselves that they hurt when they neglect to take care of their health? Would they understand how much we love them and the hole of sadness they leave behind? We’ll never know.

Right now it’s my turn to choose. I can work and be completely absorbed in the business of life, or I can take thirty, or forty or sixty minutes most days and exercise. I can get an annual physical examination and the tests needed to catch health problems early. I can do what I can to live to see my children grow up, or die too soon. I can leave my loved ones behind or accept the privilege of toughing it out each and every day. I can experience a bit of discomfort now, or cause major agony for my loved ones later. What do you choose?

Workout over.

Your family and friends love you. If you need more reasons to get your body moving, e-mail Darline Turner-Lee