Heart Monitor

One of the things Mrs.Bison got me for my birthday was a heart monitor wrist watch that I could use to help control my heart rate while cardio exercising. (Bear in mind that I hate cardio exercise, except when it involves kicking a ball.) I have some friends who've used these and they're supposed to be a good way to build endurance - the idea is that you moderate your level of exertion (such as by changing from running to walking) to keep your heart rate in a range that is defined by age, fitness and training objective. My plan was to try running on the beach during our vacation - no-one would recognize me and shame would be minimized if I collapsed in a bleating heap after two hundred yards.

I started by setting the thing to a max heart rate of 140, so that it would beep every time my heart rate went higher, and off I set along the beach. First thing I noticed was how fucking difficult it is to run on sand. If you're too close to the water you sink into the wet sand; if you're too far up the beach you sink in the dry sand. There was this tiny strip of hard sand that could carry my not inconsiderable weight and I spent most of my time trying not to veer off it. Second thing I noticed was the watch beeping. Fucking hell! I'm over 140 already! Better slow down. OK, better walk. Eventually I figured out that by resetting the max to 144 and adopting a spastic shuffling run that was barely more than a walk I could keep the thing from beeping. Much.

I ran up the beach and then ran back. I didn't get out of breath because the heart rate monitor stopped me overdoing it, so I suppose it was doing its job. I'm sure I looked like a twat though.

It's hard to know how to dress for running. Obviously anything lycra is out of the question, as are baggy satin shorts and a headband. If you dress like a serious runner and then run like a fat bastard you just look stupider than necessary. However if you don't dress like a runner (let's say you wear anonymous shorts and a t-shirt) it's not clear that you're exercising at all. People look at you as if wondering why you're running - are you leaving the scene of a crime? Did you just rob someone? They seem to be getting a good look in case they're asked for a description later. Maybe for America's Most Wanted. "Yes I saw him! He was bright purple. He looked like he was about to vomit, and there was a strange beeping noise coming from him."

Once I stopped running my heart rate went down, but not to normal. If I moved around it would be back up over 100. If I stood up, or sneezed, or farted it would be up again. Eventually I took off the monitor - if I was going to die I at least wanted it to be a surprise.

The day after running I got out of bed and my hips and back felt like I'd recently been engaged in a sex-marathon with a recalcitrant wildebeest. After that I didn't run again - I went back to the gym I'd found in Newport, and the relative joy of heavy weights. No fucking sand to worry about either.


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison