It's been three weeks, so I have to go pick up my alien residence card (F4 visa) in the morning. Or afternoon, when the traffic's better. Whatever works. It should just be a matter of skipping the whole "take a number thing," going to the pick-up desk, and asking for my card.
SIDE NOTE: given what happened during my walk a couple of days ago, I took a cautious walk this evening, having just ordered two pairs of black shorts from Coupang (yes, they sell big-and-tall clothes... go figure). This is my first time in literally decades wearing shorts in Korea. The feeling isn't quite as liberating as I'd imagined it would be. Anyway, I'd fasted all day Tuesday, and I took my evening meds, then waited almost two hours to make sure the meds were having an effect, then I went out and walked.
Result: much better. I wasn't ambitious: I did the same single lap as last time, and because I didn't want to change too many variables, that was all I did tonight (I'll try for 9K later). Still, at least three things were different:
- Last time, I hadn't taken my meds before walking.
- Last time, I'd eaten a few hours before walking.
- Last time, I'd gone walking at 10 p.m.
Tonight, I went out after midnight; it was a degree or so cooler. And there wasn't a single twinge of anything. Nice. I still felt too cautious to try something like jogging or bursting into a quick sprint, but this was a good sign that I may have a way to avoid cardiac symptoms. The first step is not to eat before walking. The second is to make sure the meds are freshly in my bloodstream. When I do my walk this coming fall, I'm going to have to remember to take my meds in the early morning as part of my pre-walk preparation ritual. Then, in the afternoon, when I eat lunch, it's going to have to be a modest, modest lunch—my only meal of the day aside from whatever diet drinks I take back to my motel with me (I might have to take back only water). I have a feeling I'm going to lose a lot of weight, assuming I survive.
Sadly, I have a sinking feeling that this upcoming walk might be my final one. I hope it isn't. I hope I live through the walk and am able to do at least one more: I'm kind of greedy for life like most people. Or maybe I'm like the replicant Roy Batty from "Blade Runner," confronting his creator Tyrell: I want more life, fucker. (Or did he say father?*) I've said this before: it's not that I'm afraid of the prospect of my death; it's more the dying that's bothersome. When I finally pass through the Great Door, I don't want it to be in a state of pain and confusion, or pain and fear. Again, like most people, I'd love to slip quietly away in my sleep, and frankly, I'd rather not die in a hospital, which is where most of us end up kicking the bucket. I'd almost rather be found half-eaten on a bike path somewhere. That, at least, would be more natural-seeming. Then again, death meets you wherever you are, and I have no control over that (that I know of), so it's not worth worrying about.
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*There are too many versions of "Blade Runner" to count, including the one where fucker became father. In the TV version, the quote is cut down to, "I want more life." Batty is demanding more life because replicants are genetically programmed to last four years.
It sounds like good progress and a reason for optimism. I'm looking forward to following along when you turn 60 and do that walk in Spain.
ReplyDeleteI've got some years on you, but dying is something I think about with increasing frequency. Not so much about the how, but what (if anything) happens after. You've pretty much crushed my fantasy of the do-over life, but maybe the almighty power of the universe will see fit to grant me my heaven on earth. Otherwise, no matter how or where death finds me, I hope it is as painless as possible.
Anyway, enough of about the end of days, you've got to live the life you have while you have it, and that means taking more of those bad-ass distance walks. Just build up for it and go when your body is ready.