Tips for a Healthier Lifestyle

I accumulate ideas.  Write them  down on slips of paper.  My bulletin board runneth over onto the adjacent walls. 

For one reason or many, these things provide a framework for how I try and live my life.  You already knew that this was going to be about what it takes to be healthy.  So here you go--Joe's tips for a better lifestyle:

Exercise daily.  You probably knew that one was coming.  You don't have to run a daily marathon but do something every day.  If it is just walking in the neighborhood, well that's better than doing nothing. 

There isn't a day off.  I've said it before, many times--find something you enjoy doing.  If it takes competition to motivate you, so be it.  Build it in.

Use reusable grocery bags.  Yeah, I know...it's hard to remember to take them when you go to the grocery store.  An estimated 8 billion pounds of grocery bags goes into our landfills every year.  8 billion pounds!   That's unreal.  If tied together, enough to circle the globe 300 times.  Each and every year.

Take the stairs.  Do you really need to take the elevator to go up one level?  I've even embarrassed people by writing about them here, using vague references so that others wouldn't be able to identify them.  But you know who you are.

Recycle.  It's easy.  Every person in America generates almost 5 pounds of waste a day.  Over 75% of that could be recycled.  We've got curb-side recycling, recycling centers, and recycling services that will come to your home and pick up all your recyclables for a really reasonable fee.   It's really easy.   And smart.

Don't always look for the closest parking space.  If you are physically able to walk across a parking lot, don't drive around waiting for the closest parking spot.  Use it as an excuse to get a few extra steps in.  And if you deserve that handicapped sticker, by all means you have a right to it.  But if you don't and use it anyway...well, there is a special place for you.

Turn off your engine in a drive-thru.  Whether it be the bank or the fast food joint, turn it off!  American vehicles burn up over 1.5 billion gallons of gasoline each year just sitting in the drive-thru lane and letting their engine run.

Yes, I've heard the statistics about restarting the engine but if you are going to be there more than 30 seconds, it pays to kill your engine.  And remember that the average fast food drive-thru time is 135 seconds.  For goodness sake, you don't need fast food much anyway.

Brown bag lunch.  It's healthier, it's cheaper, and it gives you time to run errands and still get home on time (or early) in the evening.

Get a mammogram.   It makes sense. 

Over 50?  Get a colonoscopy.  If you have a family history of colon cancer, start at 40.  Colon cancer is almost 100% preventable with colonoscopies.

Over 50?  See a dermatologist.  A lot of cancers that end up elsewhere, start as skin cancer.  So always use sunscreen when you're out in the sun so that the dermatologist doesn't have to work so hard.

Stop smoking.  You've heard it from me time and time again.  Smoking is about the dumbest habit you could develop.  Think of it this way:  If you smoke, your kids will likely smoke.  Is that what you really want?

Cut back on fried food.  Not eliminate (this is the South, after all), just cut back.  It will make a difference in the incidence of heart disease.

Preaching to the Choir

After two in a row about grandkids, it was obvious to me (and others) that it was time to move on to a new topic.  I'm often asked how I come up with ideas for this space.  After 28+ years, you would think I would have run out of ideas.

There are several topics I've visited more than a few times.  How to deal with the heat.  What it takes to be a good parent of an athlete.  Ankle sprains.  Concussions. Weight control, being healthy, nutrition, and...the bike.

The day the late great Jim Dykes told me he enjoyed my column was also the day that he suggested I quit writing about that (expletive deleted) bicycle.   But it's what I do and what I know--that and a little about sports injuries--so it has become a recurring theme.

Most of the time, it is an attempt to help others understand why it is that we do what we do.  I guarantee you that every single time I am on the bike, I encounter someone that doesn't think I should be on public streets and roads. 

It isn't always the one-finger salute nor is it getting buzzed by a driver trying to scare me.  And I've never been hit by a thrown object as most of my biking peers have.   More often it is just a toot on the horn and the impatience of cutting over quickly in front of me after they pass by.

This one fellow in Alcoa has quit responding to my articles on bicycling.  For years, he would send me a note every time I wrote about bicycling (you will notice that my personal e-mail account is found at the end of the column), telling me how bikers did not belong on public roads until we paid taxes to do so. 

I guess he was talking about a license plate, which, by the way, costs $56.60 in Tennessee for a car or truck and $49.50 for a motorcycle.  Or maybe he was talking about the tax on gas but the way I figure it, the time I spend on my bike reduces our dependence on foreign oil.  I'm betting that I spend more on sales taxes than he does but I guess that doesn't matter.

Anyway, this column isn't for him or the drivers that don't want us on the road.  This one is for the bikers.

Sometimes, we are our own worst enemy.   When we blow through a stop sign, the guy in the truck sees that and remembers.  When we crowd the yellow line on a narrow road, we risk losing the respect of the person in the mini-van.  When we ride three abreast and make it hard for someone to pass us, we don't make friends.

So bikers, listen up.   Ride safely.  Ride defensively.  Ride courteously. 

If there is a car behind you, ride single file.  You don't have to come to a complete stop when you get to a stop sign (that is compliant with state law), but you should allow the motorist first option what to do. 

Avoid the busiest roads, especially those that don't have any place where the motorized vehicles can pass you.  You'll almost never catch me on some of our main arteries like Montvale, Old Niles Ferry, or Morganton Road until well out in the county.  It's just prudent. 

If you find me on Broadway or Alcoa Highway, I've lost my mind.  I'm not saying that bikers don't have a right to be on those roads, just that it isn't smart.

Be aware of the position of the sun.  You are on a small vehicle and can be lost in the sun pretty easily.  Ride with extra caution near dusk or dawn.  Flashing lights are good and get you noticed. 

And if the state of Tennessee wants me to pay that $49.50 for a license plate for the right to ride these roads, so be it.  I'll be the first in line.

The Role of the Grandparent in Sports Today

This really happened. 

I was at a youth sporting event not too long ago. (I'll leave the sport out so as to not indict the sport--the sport wasn't the problem.)  I've written about that before.

I watched the parents and was both amused and disturbed by what I saw.  Let's just say that the sideline intensity far exceeded the intensity on the field.  There wasn't as much criticism of the game officials than I've seen often in the past, but these moms and dads were certainly animated.

When a score was made, the coach for the team (a parent) that was scored upon was in visible agony.  "How could you..." seemed to be his favored coaching method.

Sitting a little behind those parents were the much calmer grandparents.   Maybe they were calmer because they (we) have been there and done that.  I know I have. 

The grandparents offered gentle words of encouragement and support but were definitely less intense and never yelled.  I'd like to suggest that this should be the role of the grandparent.

John William Black and Worth Roscoe Mason.  Those were my grandfathers.  I never knew either of them.  They were gone long before I was born.  The only grandparent I ever knew was my maternal grandmother, who died when I was 7. 

I never had the opportunity to learn from them.  Never knew the patience that bypasses parents and goes straight to grandparents.  Never got to be bounced on their knee.

John William Black died when my dad was very young.  At one point, he owned a pool hall in Sweetwater.  My dad carried a token from those days his entire life.  That token even went to the South Pacific with him during World War II. 

Worth Roscoe Mason died too soon as well but my mom did get the chance to know him.    I don't have many stories about him but enough to know that he must have been quite a guy.

I want to stick around so that my grandchildren know who I am.  I want to be an example to them.  I want them to see that you can do the right thing every time and still enjoy life.   I want to be a living example that you can be a good guy and still be OK.

Just the other day, a fellow I know was marveling at the love that he had for his only granddaughter.  He remembers that surely he loved his own kids that much but that somehow it was different with this one.

We both speculated that maybe we were too busy "raising" our own kids that we didn't take the time to think about the love part.  Maybe we were too preoccupied with what they would become and ignored what they were at the time. 

Maybe.

I just know that my job includes being silly (often), always ready to dance (the hot dog dance comes to mind--if you don't know it, ask a grandparent), supportive, and loving unconditionally at every moment.

What Does It Take to Excel?

After that recent column critical of sports specialization (playing just one sport), I got a really interesting question from what I believe is a pretty good dad.  His question was "so what do I do to help my son be good?"

Let me say for the record that there is no need for apology if you want your kids to be better, smarter, and more athletic than you were.  It isn't always living vicariously through them. 

He and I agreed that the lessons learned from winning and losing were an important ingredient in what we take away from sports.   Think about it--there is something completely wrong with not having your efforts rewarded with a victory or at least a good loss against a worthy appointment.  I've never liked giving a trophy just for being on a team.  There needs to be structure and rewards built in. 

And we also agreed that lessons learned in sports can and should play an important part in our development into adults.

So what is the secret to helping your kids be successful on the playing fields?

It is my opinion that there are four parts to the answer. Developing athleticism, learning how to be part of a team, understanding the value of hard work, and growing passions.

I've visited this topic many times in the past and, much to his embarrassment, have declared that my son's love for the balance beam (definitely a girl's gymnastics event) taught him balance and coordination that carried on to a football career at Clemson University.

My son, who had a basketball in his hands and a passion for the game from his earliest days on, gave up the game after his sophomore year in high school for reasons complex reasons.   He then got involved with church league basketball in a league that used to be offered at 1st Baptist-Alcoa (maybe it still is).  One of the college coaches that was recruiting him, Joe D'Allesandris of Duke, wanted to see him play basketball.

I'm sure he'd seen a lot of film on him.  He just wanted to see his overall athleticism.  How he moved his body on a different playing field.   I'm convinced that college coaches don't want high school graduates that are the absolute best that they are going to ever be at that point.  They want someone that is good and will grow to be great.

The larger point is that playing lots of different things is the key to developing athleticism.  Even chucking rocks at a can is important (and the subject of a future column about pitching and throwing injuries).

The success of almost every team in team sports is based on teamwork--where everyone learns to function effectively as a team member.  Knowing your part and sacrificing "self" for the team is essential.

As I said earlier, rewarding hard work through success on the playing field sends clear messages and teaches important lessons that easily carry over into life and careers and family.

Finally, it's got to be fun.  We develop our passions around those things that we enjoy the most and those things that we have the greatest success in doing.   I can remember loving to practice football.  I certainly enjoyed the games but even the practices were things of great joy for me.  The pads, the helmets, the guys, even the smells. 

If you're passionate about, if you love every part of it, you are going to work harder at it and (this is important), you will work harder to keep playing longer.

Athleticism, teamwork, hard work, following our passions.  Isn't that what it's all about anyway?  Isn't that what this dad really wants?

Melt Your Heart

Nobody told me it was going to be this way.  I had no warning about this one.  None at all

What am I talking about?  This whole grandparent thing.  Oh, I was told that being a grandparent is this awesome experience where you can spoil 'em and then send 'em home for their parents to deal with the consequences.

A little hyperactive after too much sugar?   Sure.  Take them to the ice cream shop and then drop them off at their house.

Stay up late to watch cartoons or Frozen for the millionth time?  Sure it messes up their sleep schedules but you don't really have to deal with that.  Leave it up to mom and dad.

Eat their dessert first and skip the green stuff?  No problem.  When their vegetables have to be cleared away before getting anything else at their house, well, that's their parents' problem.

But I was never told that they had the ability to completely melt your heart.  In the blink of an eye.

Let me tell you about one episode.  Like most Saturday mornings, I had been on a bike ride.  My wife, daughter-in-law, and two of my grandkids were waiting for me at a local restaurant.  So I stuck on a hat and hustled over to meet them.

The 3 year old greeted me with her typical "Joesie," screamed loudly in the crowded restaurant.   She does that.  I show up at her house and she runs and screams her name for me like it's been months since I've seen her.  Every time.

And my heart melts every time.  She could get anything in the world from me at that point.

On this particular day, the 1 year old was too busy flirting with the waitresses who thought that he was the cutest thing in the world in his gingham check shirt (and he was).  He really didn't take much notice of me. 

We finished and walked outside and for some reason I took off my hat and the look that I got from the 1 year old was pure gold.  He looked at me and finally recognized me.  His look said clearly "oh...it's you!  I'm so glad to see you!"

The hat and the waitress distractions had thrown him completely off.  And my heart melted once again.

And then there's the oldest.  She's seven.  Rare is the time that she doesn't come running up to me and jumps into my arms because she knows that my reliable arms will always catch her.  I would NEVER fail her or drop her and she knows that.

The day will come when it isn't so cool to go jump into Daddy Joe's arms and that's OK but I hope there is never a day when she doesn't know for sure that I will always be there to catch her.

And then there's the next one, another 7 year old.  Sweet as pie and my little artist.  We love to share art tips and admire each other's work.   It's a special time for us every single time.

Then there is the 4 year old who is the sweetest kid ever.  This kid can get anything in the world he wants from his mom and I.  He just owns your heart when he walks into the room.  Oh, and he's the greatest Lego builder in the history of Lego-land.

And the 3 year old.  He knows no fear (my prediction is that he'll be a bicycle racer and an outside linebacker) but can pour tears in an instant.  Watching what he will become is a blessing I don't want to miss.

So I will continue to skip work and life and my bike rides and certainly chores to be there any time I can.  The grass needs mowing?  Sorry, there's a ballgame.  Report needed?  Sorry, there's a concert.  

Wouldn't have it any other way.