The certified diabetes educator (CDE) told me I should come up with a more structured exercise program, so I went home and did some thinking.
Then I read a fascinating statistic. During their approximately 120-day lifespan, our red blood cells travel approximately 300 miles.
Three hundred miles, eh. Why, that's 2.5 miles a day per red blood cell. Think of the total miles traveled by my trillions of red blood cells.
And if my red blood cells are traveling trillions of miles a day, why should my legs bother to try to walk at all? Can't I just lie on the couch and let my red blood cells get the exercise for me?
And that's just the red blood cells. There's a lot of other stuff in my blood: white blood cells, platelets, fatty acids, glucose, proteins like albumin, dissolved salts, oxygen, carbon dioxide, and drugs.
With my cells and chemicals doing all that traveling, I really don't want to wear out my body with even more traveling. I feel exhausted just thinking about it. Maybe even walking from the computer chair to the couch for my daily nap is too much. Maybe I could get a laptop and get my meals delivered.
I don't think there's a Meals on Wheels that would deliver to my place, but perhaps a Meals on Hooves or Snacks on Tracks would consider tackling my steep driveway.
So I went back to my CDE and told her my plans. She said the miles traveled by your red blood cells don't count. I needed more walking, she said.
Rats! I'd have to come up with another plan.
So I went home and thought a little and decided to let my fingers do the walking. I sat in a comfy chair all day and browsed through the Yellow Pages, eventually buying five new pairs of shoes and a pair of heavy gloves. I figured if my fingers were doing the walking, they'd probably want to have some heavy gloves.
Then I went back to the CDE, but she wasn't bowled over with my finger-walking program either. "You need some real walking," she said. "With your feet."
So I headed back home. Unfortunately, I got caught in a rainstorm and by the time I arrived back home I had walking pneumonia. I figured that would satisfy the CDE.
But no. CDEs are such hard task masters. She told me that walking pneumonia wouldn't help me reduce my insulin resistance.
Rats again! And back to the drawing board. But all my suggestions were in vain.
The CDE rejected my plan to lie in a hammock drinking sugarfree mint juleps and exercising my brain cells. She also rejected my suggestion that I could exercise caution. "It's your muscles that need exercise," she claimed, "not your caution."
But how can she be so sure?
Then I said I was going to use my treadmill, but she claimed that using it as a clothes horse didn't count. I said I'd do more diving. She said diving into the potato chips isn't a good form of exercise.
The CDE also rejected running a fever, racing through a novel, climbing up the social ladder, and jumping through hoops to get a promotion.
Finally, she said she was giving up on me. "Here are your walking papers," she said.
Success at last!
In the mood for another good laugh? Read more humorous posts from Gretchen.
Published On: August 25, 2008