Guinness the greyhound mutt checks her pee-mail

All schoolwork and no play makes Vick a dull (grumpy, achy, stressed-out, insomniac) student. Here on the verge of week four of the Fall term, I’m working on papers, reading masses of material from books, journals and the web, and self-studying math to place into the stats class I need for GE requirements. It’s a sea change from the summer of resting and relaxing in a quiet woodsy place, with an occasional hour or two of phone work. (During the summer, I was also gradually ramping up treatment for hypothyroid discovered in late spring; the extreme fatigue from hypothyroidism interrupted regular exercise and race training.) Outward signs of excessive stress – the disgruntled husband, the messy office, the degenerating etiquette – are clear indicators that it’s time for intervention.

So last week, in an effort to spur myself back to running regularly, I signed up for a favorite trail run. Apparently I am goal-oriented and competitive (!) – there is nothing like an impending race to get me moving more regularly and enthusiastically again. My training partner is a 12-year old greyhound mutt named Guinness, whose trot pace is around 5 miles per hour, except when she goes from 5mph to zero without warning, to stop and sniff a tree trunk. This adds random enforced rest stops, but it’s only fair that she have a chance to check her pee-mail. I’m lucky to have her as an occasional companion, and she adds the fauna element to my floral tours of the neighborhood.

Although increased fitness, reduced risk of disease, weight loss and stress reduction are marvelous perks resulting from even moderate regular exercise, for various reasons it’s difficult to give exercise the priority it deserves in a busy life. Thankfully, I’ve discovered an even bigger motivator for regular exercise: the potential benefits to cognition and memory function. John Ratey’s book Spark: The Revolutionary New Science of Exercise and The Brain details the mechanisms thought to be responsible for this – studies show measurable improvements to cognition and mood in as little as twelve weeks, for people of various ages and fitness levels. Visit Dr. Ratey’s blog to read more updates on this fascinating area of research. Finally a motivating factor that even intellectuals can embrace! My laggardly late-40s grey matter has nothing to lose and plenty to gain, so when the prospect of dodging heart disease or looking better in my clothes doesn’t get me out the door, the chance for increased mental fitness turns out to be a no-brainer.

It’s been known for some time that engaging actively in learning results in improved memory and cognition, and reduces the risk of Alzheimer’s and other dementias. (A compilation of recent research is available at SharpBrains.com.) “Every time we learn a new skill, concept or fact, we change the physical composition of our brains. Lifelong learning means lifelong neuroplasticity”, says this article. I recall having a strange and wonderful feeling once, during a period of intense learning in my early 30s. Probably a geek fantasy in the extreme, but at the time, I could have sworn I felt new convolutions forming. My hope fora link between the sensations I felt and the brain changes described in the article keeps me scanning neuroscience articles about learning and its relation to physical changes in the brain. Meanwhile, intense studies let me enjoy both the sensations and the acquired knowledge. Following the belt-and-suspenders philosophy, I also focus on aerobic exercise for better brain health.

Bio-diesel fans and other alternate energy followers may also be amused by this article at Science Daily. Apparently our brains run on alternate fuels during exercise. Rather than using only the glucose in our bloodstreams, our brains burn up the lactate (also known as lactic acid) created by our muscles.

Nearing the end of one’s forty-ninth year is perhaps an odd time to contemplate major aspirations in higher-education, and yet.. here I am.

The generalist’s dilemma is how to concentrate for long enough to be really good at any one thing, when dozens of topic areas hold not just passing interest, but intense fascination. A firm belief in MacGyverism has sustained me as I careened along a motley career path, from woodworking trades through manufacturing to public accounting, from corporate finance to technical management at valley start-ups. I had a lot of fun along the way, and earned a decent living, but what always mattered most to me was the people, for whom it seemed I could never carve time from corporate priorities to do quite enough.

Why I rejected the study of psychology at several critical junctures is too long a story for this introduction, but it meant that the other very interesting studies I chose didn’t fill my horizon with hope or my heart with lasting passion, and after a semester or three, something more interesting, and certainly more lucrative, usually came up. The infernal Protestant work ethic is deeply imbued, and the impetus to earn a decent living for myself and a growing family gobbled up all available resources for a couple of decades, until burn-out forced a contemplative break. After casting about for a while, and reading a lot, I finally turned inward and was reminded of what gives my life most meaning: helping others be healthier. While it’s definitely too late to consider med school, and anyway probably never a good fit for my rebellious spirit, the life table tells me there’s probably still time to learn something new, and helping others live longer and/or healthier lives seems an apt aim for whatever time I have left.

Bringing internal dialog to the surface lets me realize that old obstacles and objections are no longer valid – now that my child is grown, it’s okay to focus some energy on developing myself, especially in future service of others. I’ve figured out what I want to do when I grow up, and I feel extremely fortunate to have (for the first time in my life since leaving home at seventeen) the support from my family and the freedom to focus that bring collegiate success finally within reach.

Life occasionally wreaks havoc on our plans, so I remain flexible and optimistic. “The Belle of Amherst” suffered from Bright’s Disease, and only made it to age fifty-six before her poetic pen was laid back in its tray. From a more youthful person’s perspective, the prospect of starting a new career in one’s mid-fifties may appear absurd, but midlife can bring a crystalline wave of clarity, some steely determination and a hopeful ray of optimism which, when combined with a few shekels, are enough to power any dream to fruition. Trundling hopefully toward our dreams seems like as good a way as any to spend whatever time we each may have.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

–Emily Dickinson