She fired up the treadmill to push my heart rate to the target rate for someone my age. I hit the goal and wasn’t even breathing hard. We drove my heart rate to two more levels before calling it quits. I was hardly breathing hard at the end. My BP never climbed above 125/78. The heart doc gave a quick read of the EKG and said I had nothing to worry about and promised a report in a couple of days.
The good news is I probably am not going to keel over with a heart attack any time soon. The bad news is there is no answer to the pain that occasionally grips me. I think I know the medical term for my condition: hypochondria.
The interesting fact is my part-time gig is making me physically healthy, albeit not economically healthy. I walk six to nine miles a shift and routinely lift a total of a ton or two during a shift. Yes, I stock and unstock the big stuff. Think that is unrealistic? Pick up a thirty pound box and put it on a platform lift. Pick up that box from the lift and put it on a shelf. Do that for 20 boxes and you have moved 1200 pounds in about 20 minutes.
When I started I struggled to move the smaller boxes. Now I lift 90 pound boxes without overmuch difficulty. I am admittedly in the best shape I’ve been in decades.
Mental stress? Oh yes. That I have. Physical stress? That I am handling. For most of my life I have been adapt at handling emotional stress. More than once others have commented on my ability to stay calm in difficult situations. I was mentally fit while neglecting my physical health. Now those mental stresses are eating me away while my body gets in shape. Life is strange.