Last post I talked about the different components of fitness that I integrate into my weekly movement account. Driven by the accountability of writing this blog, I know I have been pushing things a little bit hard; so this past week, I began to rebalance my portfolio of movement investments.
I previously explained that walking my dog twice a day (with some enhancements, such as running, skipping, or rock hopping) is my daily foundation; it’s going to happen and I give it significant time. Along with that is yoga, although yoga has not been daily this past while. That is because I’ve been doing two days a week of more traditional bodyweight strength training, and THAT has further resulted in needing some walk-only-days to recover. So, my week was looking like this:
Continue reading Rebalancing the Portfolio
As I considered this blog entry I thought the word “activities” and my mind immediately went to this scene from the movie Step Brothers. Brennan, played by Will Ferrell, seems as if his brain is temporarily seized up at the thought of all the possible activities.
That’s what fitness for me can seem like, in regards to all of the components that I try to integrate into my weekly routine. I sometimes feel a bit lost in the possibilities, and I know that I might be missing the main tree because of the forest. That main tree is keeping, or even gaining, if possible, muscle. Muscle mass, and how often we train for it, are really important for older people . . . and so are many of the other possible activity components. *sigh*
As I approached sixty years old, I became concerned about muscle. In my mind I saw my aging body shedding muscle faster than a hair band drummer shedding his curly locks at Army boot camp. I began to follow a three-day-a week muscle building-focused routine, which was largely the main activity beyond my dog walking. I stepped back the yoga, which I had started to practice more regularly again. My strength training was nothing crazy, a fairly simple initially-bodyweight-oriented routine; the intent was to be challenging enough to ensure progressive overload so as to stimulate muscle growth. I was very sensible . . . until things went nicely for too long and the 42-year-old-me (or even 52-year-old-me) came out and I starting pushing things a bit more than the 60-year-old-actually-me should. Sacroiliac joint injury ( think). It still lingers, months later.
Continue reading So Many Activities!