I had a lazier Saturday than intended and ended up not going to Subway until around dinnertime, right as the sun was setting. I was able to walk to Subway and from Subway without having to stop in the middle, but I could feel myself becoming a bit breathless. No chest pains, though, which was nice. Judging my performance, I'd say I'm nowhere near ready to do an 18K walk down to Bundang, which probably also means I'm not going to be doing a 14K walk to the Jamshil Bridge and back.
For the moment, I think the thing to do is to start slow and easy, like when I'd just gotten out of the hospital in 2021, doing one-hour walks until I can build up to longer walks. A one-hour walk gets me out to the confluence of the Yangjae and Tan Creeks, then back, and I think that's accounting for a slower pace. A two-hour walk gets me out to the confluence of the Tan Creek and the Han River, then back. A three-hour walk is to the Jamshil Bridge and back.
Subway has a strange hold on my mind. I crave it occasionally, but every time I eat their sandwiches, I'm always left feeling somehow hollow and unsatisfied. Maybe it's more the idea of Subway than its reality that has me in its thrall. You know what sandwich I like more than the typical Subway sub? Those French salami sandwiches made with baguettes, butter, and slices of salami. Absolutely unhealthy, but if the ingredients are good, the sandwich au salami is so much better than anything Subway puts out.
Right—we'll see how tomorrow goes. Hopefully no relapse.
2 comments:
Slow and steady wins the race when it comes to the recovery process. Give your body, whatever it is battling at the moment, time to heal. Things will only get better. And, yes, Subway is a gastronomic phantom of the imagination of the first order. The sandwiches are never as good or as filling as we imagine them to be; the service non-existent; and the prices simply exorbitant. But the cookies -- oh yes -- those delightfully delicious cookies, are the real pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. There are few feelings more fulfilling than the moist yet crumbly sensation of a Subway oatmeal raisin (personal favorite) cookie melting in your mouth. And while I know that a couple of those cookies (one is never enough) probably have more calories than the entire sandwich I just suffered through, the cookies remain a reliable reminder that the dour gods of moderation that I serve on a daily basis sometimes require a steep and sacrilegious sacrifice on occasion. And as I finish that third and last cookie, I take the holy oath that all chronic cookie crunchers repeat on the regular: that this will be the final sacrifice I offer to the cookie gods; that the bloodletting and needless caloric surpluses must stop. And faithful servant of the gods I remain until I am inextricably called once more to place my offer at the altar.
It seems you're making progress. Are you still going to the doctor on Monday? You know better than most that whatever our mindful intentions, the body controls our destiny. You've come a long way since the stroke, and you'll get there again—one step at a time.
I also enjoyed Daniel's comment. I agree that he needs to post a link to his blog or start one.
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