Aging, Body and Mind

An Introspection

William Sundwick

As I approach my 72^nd anniversary on the planet, I’m beginning to feel old – ever so slightly. I have no physical infirmity that I can conveniently use as an excuse for it. There are no mobility issues, like those my mother suffered from Parkinsons in the last six or seven years of her life.

In fact, I feel rather fit, with my 160-minute per week cardio and core strength workout routine at the gym. I combine that with daily stretching, weights, and balance exercises at home. And I walk three miles per day, weather permitting. Only my feet seemingly keep me from running. My fighting weight is down to about 164 pounds, and I’ve shrunk only about an inch-and-a-half from my maximum height.

I don’t mind looking at myself in the mirror when I shower.

Yet, something has changed recently. Is it my face? I still have a full head of hair (and silver is often seen as distinguished, isn’t it?) I pay attention to grooming my beard, my eyebrows, and get haircuts regularly.

But when I’m at the gym, out and about in the neighborhood, running errands, or at church, I tend to look at other people. Many (most?) are younger. I can tell.

The Body in My Mind

I attribute these feelings to the “body in my mind.” It has undergone changes in the last few years. In some ways it is good, the middle-aged paunch has disappeared (thanks to my discovery of fitness after 60). But there is something else – something in my mind when I think about my body. Is it just the wrinkles and blotches on my face, and those heavier eyelids? Or, perhaps it’s the veil of self-deception dropping, the beginning of the reckoning.

Losing that veil is depressing. For instance, I wonder if I will ever be able to come on to a young, attractive woman again? It’s been at least three years since I sensed anybody noticing me that way. A small dose of flirting might be a palliative.

That body is only subject to decline from here on – the best I can do is arrest the decline, not stop it, certainly not reverse it!

My Mind in the World

It’s not all about my declining body, however. There is also “my mind in the world.” How do I relate to the world? When I look at others, many of them younger, I see their use of a language based on enthusiasm, noticeably lacking in my own verbal communication. You can tell who has that zest for life and who doesn’t, after talking with them only briefly. It’s their use of both verbal and body language. Written language is important when communicating across time and space. But for the flesh-pressing here-and-now, face-to-face verbal, inflection and body language are what count. And the here-and-now (IRL in social media) is the secret to feeling vital.

Whether it’s the automatic assumption on Harris-Teeter senior discount day that I deserve the 5% discount, without the checker asking, or other patronizing business encounters, the world makes me feel old.

Lately, I have convinced myself that it’s those millennials (not just my kids, but the whole cohort) who have the best orientation to the world. Their searching and struggles are compelling, as they were for me at that age. They are my favorite demographic group. It has to do with their focus on the future. I only have the present and regrets about the past. They are always reaching out. They seek community. Those I know are more extroverted than other generations, too. The world is their place.

Time flies …

“Time flies when you’re having fun!” Do we even want time to fly? There isn’t much of it left, after all! Having fun seems to require planning. Real plans need timelines (to guard against procrastination). Those fuzzy “I wish I could …” plans serve little purpose when you get older.

The present must be recognized and seized. You should organize your time in such a way as to increase the odds of taking advantage of opportunities when they arise. Thinking about my retirement decision five years ago, I remember the key drivers were: 1) little financial incentive to exceed the Civil Service Retirement System’s “maxing out” at 42 years seniority; 2) asking myself what it would take to keep me on the job; 3) likely organizational deterioration of my operation, regardless of what I did; 4) desire to get out while still healthy!

It was a slam-dunk by mid-2015.

Yes, there are losses in retirement. There’s social loss (collegial relationships), prestige loss (“what do you do?” “I’m retired”), and activity loss (don’t forget to invent replacement activities). Cutting those losses should be the prime objective. All are counteracted by good planning, optimism, and confidence in your legacy. That legacy may mean various things -- your organization, your family, or whatever audience you choose.

What comes next? It needn’t be scary. It may be slow (unfortunate, like my mother’s Parkinsons, or step-father’s Alzheimers) or fast (merciful, like my father’s coronary at 81, much later than he was expected to survive). It may be expected or unexpected. It may come as relief from pain, or as easily as dozing off for a nap. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.

Sighs and Shrugs

Sighs and shrugs are the appropriate reaction to all this, I guess. None of us is immortal. We do what we can to postpone the inevitable, but it seems foolish to panic about undone deeds, unfinished projects. They’re always unfinished. Is the world a better place for me having been in it all these years? I hope so. But I don’t know about the fullness of time – the final judge. None of us does.

I planned a retirement party for myself after 42 years at the Library of Congress. There weren’t many such parties among my compatriots retiring then. I’m not sure why. I felt I deserved one. I wanted to give those that “survived” me a party; I didn’t need them to give me one. 

Was it a wake? It felt like one, but I was present!  

Grandpa and Mira, Dec. 2018

Staying Anchored and Marking Time

The Meaning of Routines

William Sundwick

About two years ago, I wrote a post for Warp & Woof called “Celebrating Banality.” It was a defense of the banal, quotidian routines in life. They were contrasted with the relatively rare moments of exhilaration from new experiences that our culture tends to equate with creativity or a “meaningful” life.

I’m now two years older, seems like it might be time for an update. Much of my beloved banality has survived. I still eat the same breakfasts and lunches I did two years ago, sleep patterns remain the same, and watching TV late at night with my wife continues to be a hallowed tradition. I still play games by devising alternating patterns on a complexity continuum for executing my routines. I will always do my neighborhood walks in the same order (counterclockwise from my house) for the complete eight-day circuit of my eight different routes, then start over. Gym workouts include back strengthening on nautilus equipment for two of the four sessions each week, but not a third day – unless I anticipate play dates with grandchildren which require lifting and carrying them. Other contingency patterns work for other routines, depending on the number of choices available for any given task.

But there have also been some changes of routines. I am now off the Board of Deacons at my church (3-year terms), hence have fewer regular evening meetings to attend, and fewer joint projects with folks at church. A replacement for that, however, is that I have gone “all-in” with my Daytime Writers Group, making blogging nearly a full-time pursuit. And, the routines around grandfathering have also changed. Parents’ work schedules no longer require frequent afternoon babysitting. Although more independent now, Owen has a new baby sister!

Staying anchored via routines is what others expect of us. They’re our real world. Marking time is what we do when we “recharge” for the next new thing. But those new things often have obstacles in their path – at our age, old routines often die hard. As much as I love my neighborhood walks, losing one of the eight different routes recently due to park maintenance in Falls Church caused real discomfort when I had to reconfigure that route! It’s always easier if routines remain unchanged when you get old.

And, because I am generally slower to react to new stimuli, I may not even recognize when an old routine is no longer working for me. I spend too much time on Facebook. Social media surfing has grown rather than subsided over the past two years, and now consumes much of my day – despite warnings from many pundits about its addictive properties. It’s marking time, but not in a good way.

Physical mobility is even more important to me now than two years ago. My stretching exercises and weights at home, as well as my cardio-intensive gym workouts, have become more critical – at least in my mind. I’ve experienced no decline in mobility but am more afraid of it for the future. Exercise helps me stay anchored.

It’s also possible that the range of future possibilities is greater now than two years ago. At least, I now look forward to developments that were less clear then. Maintaining the status quo of a democratic society has become a greater challenge, seemingly more threatened than even two years ago. I anticipate seeing at least two grandchildren growing up (well, getting bigger). I want them to have as many of the fruits that I was privileged to share as I can provide. Two years ago, I was still enjoying the freedom from the social constraints of my pre-retirement work environment. Today I place social interconnection at the top of my list of desirable traits in society.

My writing for Warp & Woof, as well as micro-blogging in Facebook discussion groups, has taken the form of a meta-analysis of reality. More than any other activity in which I engage, it keeps me anchored. Each post marks time until the next one. And, I think I don’t really care if anybody reads my writing (I do get feedback from Facebook friends and discussion group members, as well as Daytime Writers). At least I’ve put it out there. Anybody can discover it. And, listening to podcasts while on my neighborhood walks helps me explore that meta-analysis for later use in my writing.

Establishing routines, whether writing, exercise, or social interaction, is like a toddler learning to walk. Place one foot in front of the other, while maintaining balance. With practice comes greater confidence. And as you get good at the routines, you can even learn how to fit other people into them. They can support your routines, rather than interfere with them.

What happens when you must stop a routine? If physical difficulty, or danger, requires a replacement for the old routine, then you unlearn the old behavior, as painful as that can be as we age. The replacement therapy may take the form of help from others in your life, or systematic re-education. Ultimately, you will ask yourself the question: why do I need to change?  The answer will likely be you are harming your health, or others are making new demands on you, or that you’re simply missing something in your life, even if you can’t quite identify it. If none of these apply, maybe you don’t need to change!

Will I have another update in reporting my routines? It may depend on other people in my life forcing change on me. Or, it may be because of something I see as a “decline” – I hope not! Change when you’re over 70, not to be taken lightly.

  How I Hate My Gym

Let Me Count the Ways

William Sundwick

I’ve been a member at my gym for ten years. I faithfully follow a 4-day, 160-minute per week cardio workout routine. And, I added back-strengthening equipment two or three times each week (anticipating carrying around a grandchild).

It’s so damned boring!

How did I fall into this habit, anyway? Who convinced me? How do I measure success? Do I get anything from it?

First, I blame my doctor. He told me, in unvarnished language, that my family history put me in a high-risk category for heart disease. I couldn’t argue. I was 60. My job entailed a lot of walking around the Capitol Hill campus of the Library of Congress, but otherwise no exercise. Even with my cholesterol and blood pressure chemically controlled, he was not confident of my viability. Somehow, I convinced him that my diet was not overloaded with animal fats. So, physical activity was the only preventative therapy left. It would likely bring weight loss, too. That appealed to me. He has continued to encourage me ever since – to my chagrin.

Then, there was my wife. As we celebrated our Silver wedding anniversary in 2008 with a vacation in the Blue Ridge Mountains, it dawned on me that I wanted to keep this going much longer. The prospects might well depend on what I did to take care of myself. She agreed – and, promised to support me with her own exercise regime. Together we searched for an amenable, convenient fitness center – there weren’t quite as many in our neighborhood back then. When a new one opened, within walking distance of our house, we thought it worth a try (although we didn’t ever walk there). We’ve been there ever since. It falls into the “budget” category – few bells and whistles, no classes, no pool, or other things like that. Low risk. When I retired, and she continued working, our workout schedules diverged. Otherwise, it has remained a joint activity. We compare notes.

Retirement. That was a life change. I felt renewed. It’s possible that my decision was influenced in part by the greater confidence I now had because of my gym. I had dropped twenty-five pounds within a year-and-a-half of joining – and, kept it off, without changing in my diet. Admittedly, I had been eagerly anticipating sleeping in; but, still, the retirement that looked good before I left continued to feel good afterwards. I was 67, but felt like 57, and I’d put in my Civil Service Retirement System maximum of 41 years, 11 months. I could retire with 80 per cent of my “high three” salary average. I felt I had an edge over those who waited until poor health slowed them down. I would go while still able-bodied.

Fitness remained part of my plan. I would make up for lost steps at work by taking regular neighborhood walks, mapping alternate routes that all led to my Fitbit-required 10,000 steps per day. I settled on a health club routine of 160 minutes of moderate cardio exercise each week – elliptical, bike, treadmill. (the treadmill eventually disappeared, for the same reason I can’t run – my feet). That has been the routine ever since. Without a requirement to be in an office for eight-and-a-half hours five days a week (working from home was never permitted in my job), allocating the time for workouts was easy.

Two problems did arise with my gym routine, however. The first, doing the same thing day-in and day- out got very tedious. And, second, after my initial eye-popping weight loss, how could I measure further improvements in my health and fitness? I learned to deal with the first problem, with the help of my beloved iTunes playlists and my affinity for the banal – a legacy from my working days, I suspect.

It was the second issue that caused the greatest concern. For those ambitious souls who have fitness goals, there are apps which track their progress (my Fitbit app could do some of this, too) – but, my only goal was to stay healthy, feel good, and live to 100! The only way to measure its impact would be to stop, then see what happens. That seemed too drastic an experiment – especially as I became more invested in my workout routine.

Eventually, I accepted that my current mental state was fine and there wasn’t really anything else I would rather do with the blocks of time I spent at the gym. How sad is that? Sometimes, it even seems like stopping would signal “defeat” – this is who I am now! I’ve convinced myself that I owe my loved ones as much active lifespan as I can possibly deliver. Is this some peculiar facet of narcissism?

One other potentially awkward side effect of an old man (now 70) feeling healthy and vigorous, even youthful, is his libido. Yes, I’ve noticed attractive young women at the gym. That increase in confidence from new-found fitness has occasionally caused humility to give way to friskiness!  The awkwardness here is more laughable than humiliating, or demeaning, I hope. I am still a gentleman – even when embarrassed.

Some gyms make efforts to encourage socialization. Perhaps not those in the “budget” category, though. Bare-bones memberships do not include many social contact opportunities. My gym most likely would not be a draw for the young single crowd -- unless they were serious about their workouts, of course. I’m basically a social animal, however. What do I make of the eerie solitude of my routine? Ear buds, listening to my favorite music, prevent me from hearing any conversations, yet I see the same faces every day. But, there is no incentive or mechanism to interact with them. It’s beginning to bother me. Who are these people? Shouldn’t there be some way I can “break the ice” – without appearing to be “coming on” to anybody?

I may make social contact at the gym a project.

Everybody seems bored, though. That includes the staff at the desk. It must be even worse for them than for us members – they put in long hours doing very little except answering the phone, cleaning up, and occasionally showing new prospective members around. Little wonder I can’t get any inspiring conversation started with them. Disclaimer: some interviews for this piece have been fruitful. Perhaps they’ll give me feedback post-publication?

Despite the reasonable goal of wanting to socialize more, from the few times I have managed to overhear conversations on the floor, or in the men’s locker room, I must say, I’m not sure what I can do for these people. Is there anything they want from me? I wonder.

So, you get what you pay for in health club membership. Perhaps the low end of the market shouldn’t be expected to provide everything. Still, it’s always interesting to see what you can get out of any social situation. Push it, just like you push your body with your workout! The casualness and minimum hassle of my gym must be worth something.

Apparently, many people pay for health club memberships, more than what I pay, and don’t use them. That seems even stranger than my situation – I use mine! Both my wife and I continue our budget membership, continue to complain, but continue to faithfully attend. It must fit our lifestyles. We persist, she on her early evening schedule, me during the day. And “the beat goes on.”

Celebrating Banality: Why Those Daily Routines Have So Much Power

William Sundwick

Excitement vs. Routine

We all love exciting new experiences. The faster heart beat of the unexpected thrill, or the shot of feel-good dopamine or serotonin neurotransmitters into the brain, are what many of us associate with a life lived "on the edge." Much popular literature, art, and music consider the excitement of danger and unanticipated adventure to be a great virtue.The appeal of newness can reasonably be associated with feelings of optimism, hopefulness. Novelty is undeniably an attractive prospect for many.

But, what about routine? We all engage in daily rituals, or some banal activities, to which we pay little heed, in our imaginations. Why do we continue to practice such ordinary, repetitive, processes in our lives? Indeed, we often conclude that life may amount to nothing more than replacing one pattern of banal activity with another, on and on, throughout our short time on this planet.

The facts are that daily routines contribute much to our psychological, and physical, well-being. They generate comfort and security, predictability -- necessary prerequisites to develop skills, mastery, in life. Just as a corporation seeks predictability in the economy, to enable growth, so, too, do we individuals need that security for us to grow. Routines reinforce our "being present" in reality, as opposed to anxiously contemplating the future, or drowning in regrets about the past. Meditation is often reduced to the most fundamental routine: breathing in, breathing out. Continued practice of routines is what enables mastery of any skill, hence from childhood on, we need routines in order to keep our world functioning. Schools and workplaces emphasize routine for exactly that reason -- mastery.

There exists an interesting circular interaction between "exciting" experiences and banal routines, throughout our lives. On the one hand, moments of excitement can create energy needed later for stamina in maintaining daily routines: those neurotransmitters, and the psychological lift they produce. But, simultaneously, the very repetitiveness of the daily routines frees up creative energy, which can be used to induce further excitement. Not much energy is expended by the banal, unless you let your mind wander to an uncertain future, or become paralyzed by regrets for past mistakes. Hence, a reservoir can be built up, ready for release when the opportunity arises.

Patterns

In addition to the binary system of "excitement" vs. "routine," we also possess a mechanism for controlling the pace and scheduling of routines. Complex lives, those which need variegated scheduling, depending on lots of contingencies, will require another behavioral tool ... "patterns."

Patterns of behavior are really layers of routines. Depending on their sophistication, they may mitigate uncontrolled variability ("uncertainty") with varying effectiveness. While daily routines are governed by clocks ... actual clocks ticking off hours, minutes, seconds; or, lifetime clocks related to aging and stages of life; or, quotidian biological clocks with alarms signaling hunger, tension, lethargy, sleep deprivation, etc. Behavior patterns will trigger the routine when certain combinations of circumstances occur, perhaps not following a predictable clock; but, instead, following the completion of a previous routine, as a precondition. Some of these patterns have no apparent cause, but are totally arbitrary: e.g., I raise the venetian blinds on the clear story windows in my family room on alternating days of the week, depending on when my cleaning ladies are scheduled to come, so that on the day they clean, the blinds are lowered with only slats open. This routine has no purpose other than an alternating diurnal pattern, I could just as easily make sure that the blinds were lowered just before the cleaning crew arrives, and not worry about the other times! Perhaps the behavior pattern helps me remember which week they are due to clean (alternating weeks), but surely I could come up with a less bizarre reminder!

When multiple routines compete for the same space, other contingencies must determine which routine will be followed. I take late evening showers, if I intend to go outside afterwards (usually to unplug my Chevy Volt from the outlet in the driveway, so that my wife doesn't have to do it before she goes to work next morning), I will get dressed, else I will get in my pajamas after my shower! The operative contingency here is whether I plugged the car into the electrical outlet early enough in the evening so that it will be fully charged by the time I finish my shower; which, in turn, may depend on how much battery range was left on the car when my wife or I last returned it to our driveway that day. One can imagine far more complex combinations for many of the decisions they make regarding which routine to activate, and when. Since the logical flow chart for all these behavior patterns could become very elaborate, most of us rely on our own internal circuitry, and memory, to pull up the correct behavior for the contingency at hand. As long as the patterns and routines further our progress toward a goal, we should be okay. But, what about that goal? Where does it come from? ... Whose goal is it, anyway?

Goals

Some goals are low risk projects. We have ready access to the routines, and patterns, that we know can let us reach those goals easily. Little energy is invested in achieving those simple goals. If we have food in the house, and minimal food preparation skills, we will eat. If we find we are dozing off on the sofa, and the clock shows an appropriate hour, we go to bed. If we have an established home exercise routine, and the time and tools to execute it, we will do so. Other goals, however, are more difficult to achieve. Sometimes, it's because the goal is unclear ... why do I have a pattern for opening those venetian blinds, anyway? Sometimes, the skill set needed to achieve the goal is not yet mastered, we may have to learn new routines, or maybe we have lost the skills needed, during the course of our life. We may have simply forgotten the routine  ...  where are light bulbs in this store, again?

Even a routine as silly as opening and lowering those blinds on alternating days, when you break it down to its origins, has the goal of reminding me when the cleaning ladies are coming ... and, keeping track of which day of the week I'm in, as bonus! Some goals are related to maintaining good health, like meals, sleep and exercise. Some goals are selected to foster creativity, like frequency of posts to Warp & Woof blog. And, some patterns of daily routines are invented for the purpose of building structure in life. In these cases, the routines came first, the goals that the routines facilitate only take shape after the routine is established -- does this explain the venetian blinds?

When goals are selected by others for you, your behavior patterns may be ad hoc. Deadlines and priorities may be imposed which determine how the patterns are structured. Which should I do first today, if I know I have to be at a meeting in Alexandria by 7:00? Should I go to the gym, shower, then take a walk? Or, should I start writing my blog post first, then go to gym, and leave the walk optional, as time permits?  Any combination of routines may be possible, inclusion or not, based on priorities or deadlines. Constraints imposed by others tend to govern some people's behavior more than others ... and, at some stages of life more than others (not so much in retirement!).

Banality

There is an annoying lack of authority on the subject of the banality of daily routines. Most everybody agrees that daily routines are good for you. They seem to be responsible for all the positive direction in our lives. The disagreement arises in assigning relative value to different routines. It seems everybody has an agenda, something to sell. Which routines are labeled "good" versus "bad" depends on that agenda. I am left with the conclusion that it is the very banality of the routine which generates its value. Banality has multiple definitions, too. One definition focuses on the "ordinariness" of the banal, Another definition, based on its Old French origins, is "common to all."

If we focus on the banal as being the "ordinary" or "unexceptional", we are confronted by the fact that what's ordinary to one person may be very extraordinary to another. Think about routines for somebody with a disability, versus the able. Perhaps the routines that seem most ordinary are precisely those which we should be most thankful we can call banal! On the other hand, if we accept the definition "common to all," we are now entering the realm of lowest common denominators. Is it fair to say that these routines are at the heart of what makes us human? None of us can survive without them, much like the case of meditation exercises.

Banality, as ordinary, obvious, or uneventful, is often associated with "boring."  Yet, our shared experience in life supports the concept that very interesting, and creative, people can lead lives filled with banal routines. It may even be the banality that spurs their creativity. Conversely, how many boring people seemingly have "exciting" lives, free from such banality? Of course, the dark side of banality is seen in the excessively compulsive person, who can't seem to control the banality of their daily life (like people who have patterns of raising and lowering venetian blinds, which seemingly cannot be altered!).

Yet, there is a school of art, music, and literature which celebrates the banality of daily life. Andy Warhol comes to mind, and more recently, Jeff Koons. Pop culture, in general, is often thought to be a celebration of the banal, and Bob Dylan receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature last year seems to confirm this view.  Last year's indie film "Paterson" has been billed as a celebration of the banal, whose main character is a New Jersey bus driver with no formal education, who becomes a poet. Some even place pornography in the category of banal art. Clearly, then, the banal has its place in the arts. Consequently, it should not be denigrated in our personal lives, and it certainly does not have to be seen as "boring!"

On a personal level, it is impossible to ignore the banal nature of my daily life. It has become even more apparent over the last two years, since I retired from a 42-year career in an office environment at the Library of Congress. Although, clearly, that long career was, itself, a monument to banality. I contend that this mass accumulation of banal activity consuming my entire adult life has been the raw material for sparks of creative energy. And, these sparks have been igniting on a regular basis, all through my life, without my noticing! I haven't noticed mostly because I've been so conditioned to demean the role of the banal.

My Banal Life

These days, routine definitely trumps adventure. Virtually every weekday, I get out of bed, get dressed, unplug my Volt from the outdoor electrical source, retrieve the newspaper from the front yard, kiss my wife goodbye as she leaves for work on Capitol Hill, eat a breakfast consisting of some bakery bread, banana, coffee, and orange juice with my prescription drugs, vitamins, baby aspirin.

This routine only varies by the occasional substitution of Post Great Grains cereal for the bread, and possible elimination of the outdoor unplugging of the car (if I had already done it the night before). The entire routine lasts from about 7:30 - 8:00 until around 9:00. I eat slowly while checking email, recording estimated calories in my Fitbit app (both for breakfast and previous evening's snack), and maybe begin the secondary routine of following my Facebook news feeds and friends' posts.

After making the bed -- and, on Monday or Tuesday, starting my laundry -- the Facebook routine typically fills my morning until it's time for a "second breakfast" sometime after 10:00. This morning snack will consist of Yoplait yogurt (various flavors) and either cereal or bread, with more coffee.

There could be interruptions caused by a need to respond to an email, but this is often the time when I plan the rest of my day ... which routines, and in what order? Wild variations sometimes follow these activities: today I drove to Alexandria, to reconfigure the prison videoconferencing equipment at my church, some days I go to Planet Fitness next, for my standard 40-minute cardio-heavy workout routine, other days, if the weather is nice, I use this block of time for a walk around the neighborhood, and listen to one of several podcasts to which I subscribe.

Whenever I choose to walk around the neighborhood, I will follow one of eight possible routes, some of them can be varied by incorporating portions of another route. On bad weather days, I have been known to get my required steps (Fitbit tells me I should get 10,000 per day) by going to the gym and simply walking on a treadmill while reading a book. Some days, like today, interruptions to my usual routines cause me to jettison the steps ... an example of ad hoc variance of routines.

Lunch consists of a sandwich with cold cuts and one slice of cheese, pickles or cantaloupe, and iced tea or non-alcoholic beer. Every weekday, afternoons will consist of either the gym workout plus shower, the walk, or both. Lunchtime is always between 1:00 and 2:00. Recently, a new routine has been added two days a week, before dinner. At 5:00, on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I am now expected to pick up my toddler grandson at his family day care provider and play with him at his house until one of his parents returns from work. This is fun, and reminds me of how important routines are -- little Owen gets a written report from his day care center each day which looks EXACTLY LIKE MY DAY! Except, he fills time in the afternoon with a nap ... I don't.

When wife returns from work, around 6:00 or 6:30, sudden retooling for excitement and unpredictability takes over! No telling what may happen next! Dinner typically is not planned until this point, beyond some speculation which may have occurred the previous evening. Now is her time to do all those wonderful routines that I had the whole day to do. I will either spend time with dinner prep during the next two hours, or not, in which case, my creative impulses can either start, or continue where I left off earlier in the day. This very moment is such a time during just such an evening.

Weekends have different routines, since they generally involve my wife as well. Breakfasts for me are the same as during the week, and I have to try harder to squeeze in those health/fitness routines, since it is over the weekend that we go places and do things! Errands must be run, occasionally we must go out to eat, or a movie, or even something more exciting, like theater. Sundays typically include some portion of the day at church, and these days, some Saturdays also include church activities (like this week). Generally, weekends are a struggle to preserve my precious routines of the weekdays, they contain more unpredictable activity, more people interrupting the automatic repetition of my solitary behavior patterns of the week. For this reason, I find creative production more difficult on weekends.

Evenings, both weekday and weekend, have one very dear routine ... interrupted only when there are extreme late nights out, such that we just collapse when getting home. My wife and I always indulge ourselves in watching recorded, or streaming, television in the late evening hours. This ritual never begins prior to 11:30, often not until after midnight. It consists of me closing my browser on my office computer, thus shutting down Facebook for the night, making a snack ... which includes an alcoholic nightcap (beer, wine, or a mixed drink from my Calabrese bartenders' guide), getting into my pajamas, and selecting which of our favorite series to watch tonight! There is a long list of possiblities ... the two of us watch lots of TV, just not when it's broadcast.

It's clear that I am pursuing goals with my banal routines, but many of those goals are never quite realized. It seems that the behavior continues until I feel the goal has been reached, then I may change the routine. Some goals, of course, by their nature, are lifelong motivations: good health, wisdom, and the like. But, others could be achievable, if only we had enough time! Alas, things always seem to interfere with our spending sufficient time "practicing" our routines. And, we are told we are all mortal, anyway.

Hence, we may have to abandon some goals as impractical. This is the sort of thing that causes deep sadness at times, indulging that phenomenon of spending much time reminiscing (regretting) the past, with no payoff except depression. In my life, four lost goals stand out, two due to impracticality, and two because they were successfully achieved, but the associated routines are equally missed for all four: 1) piano, not practical at my age and state of mind, or small muscle coordination; 2) child rearing -- grandchild rearing is not the same, since I won't see the actual results; 3) meetings, that's right, I miss the balm of listening and reporting group endeavors, but I'll call this one successful achievement of the goal, as I may rediscover the goal, social in nature, who knows?; 4) projects, those big, long-term, endeavors which I was responsible for executing, whether alone, or with help from others -- the skills exercised, when successfully applied, always made me feel good. Note that all four of these missed routines, and associated behavior patterns, characterized earlier stages of my life (except piano, which I now concede, I began too late in life).

For the future, it appears that it's necessary to plan our banality.  My future plans include a basement remodeling project, transitioning off the Board of Deacons at my church, perhaps some level of political activism, and grandchild rearing (whatever that entails). All will likely involve new routines, which will need to be practiced, and the complexity of my life won't diminish so much as to obviate patterns of behavior, which will still be needed to facilitate the practicing. Inasmuch as some existing routines will have to be replaced, I will have to prioritize the new over the old, if my new goals are to be achieved ... in my lifetime. I can't contemplate just yet the costs of leaving unfinished goals behind, perhaps it's inevitable that there will be some. I was compelled to leave a record of ongoing activities and projects when I retired from the Library of Congress (it was 2015, after passage of the Federal Records Act). This blog post doesn't count as such a record of my life goals!

Your Banal Life

If my reader is burdened by too many goals being imposed on you by others, try some engineering design of your daily routines. Invent new patterns of behavior, tweak the existing patterns. Don't be afraid to let the banality of tasks release some pent-up creative energy which can be directed elsewhere. If you feel imprisoned by your compulsiveness, try a rational evaluation of how effective your familiar routines really are. Are they the best possible vehicles for achieving your stated goals? Sometimes, you may have to forcibly break a routine (a "bad habit"), even if you remain fuzzy about what its replacement routine looks like. If you are "self-actualized" already in your banality, then congratulations! That means your routines and patterns of behavior are well-suited to meeting your life needs. Keep it up!

But, whatever adjustments you make to your daily routines, remember not to pass up opportunities for excitement, even if the end result might only contribute to your life's banality. That banality enables future excitement!

How to Keep Your Exercise Routine Focused in the Present, not the Future

William Sundwick

Everybody agrees that exercise is an important factor in health, especially as we age. But, who hasn't had difficulty keeping to their ideal exercise routine? It's just too much work, it's boring, I'm too busy, it's too cold or too hot, or rainy outside.

Part of the problem in keeping to a schedule may be goals that are over-ambitious. While true that setting goals can lead to achievement, hence releasing dopamine, making you feel good about yourself, setting goals that are too high leads to failure! Failure is not something that releases dopamine, or any other "feel good" neurotransmitter. There's reason to believe that working out, like dieting, for the purpose of weight loss may not be the best strategy, unless your weight loss goal is very oblique (maybe primarily for weight CONTROL!). My physician has given me oblique instructions like "drop 5 pounds before I see you next time", and it's worked, but that is a pretty modest goal. Likewise, the well-known trap of  "I work out so I'll look good naked" is probably a set-up for failure, if body image is a major detriment to your feeling good about yourself.

My proposal, based mostly on personal experience with exercise over the last 8-9 years (i.e., only since I turned 60, really) is simple: focus on the present, not the future! Much research supports the basic premise that exercise, even moderate exercise, makes you feel good. Being sedentary is something which clearly does NOT release any of the four "feel good" chemicals in your brain: dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, and endorphins. We're not talking about the famous "runner's high" here, that may only happen after an hour or more of very vigorous aerobic, or cardio, exercise, like running. But, even as little as 10 minutes of some motion-oriented activity, like dancing or gardening, can produce measurable increases in the release of some of the neurotransmitters associated with BDNF (Brain Derived Neurotrophic Factor).  It's this category of protein, like anandamide, that allows us to reduce stress, and deal with anxiety and depression, at least temporarily. Studies have demonstrated that groups of depressed patients, when exposed to regular exercise alone, fared better than control groups administered drugs, or combined drugs and exercise. Endorphin release, that "runner's high", doesn't ever make it to the brain, but stays in the blood stream. It's those other neurotransmitters that affect your mood.

While any physical activity has positive benefits for mood, a somewhat more vigorous exercise program is even better. Something on the order of 30 minutes, at least, three to five days per week, is often recommended. This level of exertion does require a modicum of preparation and routinizing, for most of us. I've decided that the most important features of any successful exercise program are the following:

1. do things that feel good, not painful (you shouldn't be "testing" yourself)
2. associate your workout with another pleasurable experience (I listen to my iTunes playlists only when I'm at the gym, and I love that music)
3. set goals only slightly hard to meet (mine are simply the number of days per week I go to the gym ... my workout, once there, is always the same)
4. measure your success after the fact ... not while you're working out (I weigh myself once a week, and manually add calories burned at gym to my Fitbit app, along with calories consumed wth food -- sleep, and total steps from all sources, are automatically recorded -- gym workouts are only one part of a holistic picture)
5. vary your routine, not because you're bored, or aren't getting the results you want, but just because you want variety in your life (my gym workout is always the same, except I added back-strengthening about a year ago, but I also walk around the neighborhood, do stretching and limberness exercises at home, and have a pair of 8-lb. arm weights and a 5-lb. medicine ball at home, all run on their own separate schedules).

I consider myself a successful, and happy, senior exerciser. I've managed to keep it up for at least eight years, and have dropped about 35 lbs. off my weight over that time, most of it the first year, but with a downward curve continuing, though shallower, ever since. I'm actually proud of myself when I look in the mirror these days. My wife concurs. I never had any specific weight loss goals, and never felt a pressing need to look better, except just to generally "improve" my self image. Retirement helped, rather than hindered, the process, too -- more time to play!

All of the above suggestions are focused on your exercise routine feeling good while you're practicing it, and immediately afterwards. My experience has been that focusing on the present is almost always the preferred state of mind. Although I don't meditate, I can understand its appeal! If you allow yourself to focus too much on the future, anxiety is the likely result. If you focus too much on the past, sadness for lost opportunities! The Present remains the best bet for happiness.