Originally Posted by
Jonathon Sullivan
I dunno. But I do know that I disassembled and moved my entire fucking gym yesterday, which included carrying heavy racks, bars, and plates down four flights of stairs and up into a truck with my intern, Frank, and a few other very dedicated clients. We then unloaded that truck full of heavy shit and reassembled our gym in the new facility. In one day, in two 4-hour stretches of continuous physical effort. The phrase work capacity kept springing to mind.
We didn't die. We didn't get hurt. We got a little winded after a few hours of moving shit down the stairs. We needed a really big lunch. We woke up a little sore today, and went and bought and loaded and unloaded a bunch of plywood. I christened our new Prowler track before I locked up the new gym for the night. And still didn't die.
We're in our late fifties, and it just wasn't a big deal. We could have gone harder for longer*. Frank kept joking that it was, after all, his Recovery Day, and my Light Day.
So I don't know my VO2max or my 5-mile run time, but I think I met and even exceeded the not-inconsequential physical demands of my life and environment, which if memory serves is the definition of "fitness." I feel like whatever I'm doing, it works. YMMV.
*That's what she said.