A MILE HIGH

May 2, 2019 – I used to be a compulsive runner. In my prime, I logged 110 to 120 miles a week, full tilt. I worked out twice, sometimes thrice a day. Between workouts, I analyzed my running data, devoured running magazines and . . . carbohydrates. I ran the Boston Marathon years in a row and marathons in New York City, Stockholm (Sweden), and my hometown Twin Cities. The toughest race of was the Paavo Nurmi Marathon (Hurley, Wisconsin), named after the famous “Flying Finn.” My goal was to run a sub-2:30:00 marathon. I approached the goal but never reached it.

As the years ran by, life’s demands and distractions outpaced me. Eventually, my enthusiasm—you might say, my “obsession”—ebbed. Then Age, the inevitable stalker, needled its way through the field and nipped at my heels. Better to bike, I thought, so for a number of years, I did.

But a bike can be a pain in the butt—literally, as well as figuratively. Plus, as I here attest, you can crash and burn.

Then one fine day a close physician friend of mine fully familiar with my workout obsession remarked off-handedly that for people “our age,” regular walking is a “best exercise.” I took this to heart.

As one fully blessed with “OCD” traits, I added to my daily walks the idea of walking a mile of vertical feet a week. This translates to 528 (residential) flights of stairs or 6,864 steps.

For five years running—I mean “walking”—I’ve adhered to this discipline . . . I mean, compulsion.

I don’t wear an app to track my “stair climbs,” but simply keep count mentally, which, I’ve found, exercises my memory skills. Every day at work, I take regular breaks and “do stairs” in my office building. At lunchtime, I hike through the skyway system that sprawls throughout downtown Minneapolis and take full advantage of the staircases that lead between the skyway level and ground floor lobbies of buildings “on the system.” Within a skyway mile, I can easily accumulate 20 to 30 flights, and inside the back marble staircase of old city hall, I log a bonus set of 10 flights—two steps at a time.

In the evening I hike a mile over to the hilly portion of the golf course at St. Paul’s Como Park. Long ago I estimated (conservatively) the vertical height of every hill—judging by how much I lifted my foot with each step times the number of steps.

I allow—nay, require—myself to “bank” surplus flights from one day to the next and from week to week. This feeds well into my OCD tendency. I like always to be ahead of myself.

Call it a weird obsession or whatever else you like, but I find that my weekly “mile high” has kept me in decent shape as Age picks up its pace.

I urge you to give stairs a try—no equipment necessary, not even a FitBit!

© 2019 Eric Nilsson