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MONDAY January 26, 2004 - Subscribe - Contact Us - Rate Card Valley&State Backpage O&E Sports Archives Classifieds Faith&Beliefs Obituaries Revels January 10, 2004 View from the Pugh Run of the mill Lance K. Pugh As part of my attempt to regain my svelte self that resides somewhere within the hangar of my current body, I have again begun to attend the gym in the early mornings ... there to gradually wake up during a stallag of self-imposed motions. My gym of choice has recently undergone a makeover. All the equipment has been moved, walls torn down and, in every aspect, it is much improved. Thus, with aplomb and direction, I began my re-immersion into the world of Iron and Breathlessness. I have always shunned the treadmills, thinking these the reserve of the novice. Yet this morning a new model that sported a display usually reserved for a military war room struck me. I began to read the instructions, then caught myself, for I consider myself technically enabled. I could not be seen struggling with the instructions on a treadmill. Besides, I had left my glasses in the car. I entered my weight somewhat untruthfully, then proceeded to add my age to within an Ice Age. A couple of other rapid entries and I was ... off. During my cursory inspection of the machine I had failed to notice that galvanic hand-grips were installed to measure my heart beat, which told the machine to adjust the incline of the walking surface such that my desired heart rate would automatically be maintained. Not wanting to appear the wimp, I set the speed for a gazelle attempting to escape from a lion and began huffing like a Lionel gone loony. Chugging down the moving track I soon noticed that all eyes were upon me. It was either envy of my technological prowess or fear that the building would collapse, for the assembled eyeballs were not idle. Masking my oxygen depravation with a thin veneer of insouciance, I strode onward toward some unseen goal, my hands swinging by my side. Microprocessors are not intelligent, nor are they compassionate. Without my heartbeat to serve as feedback the treadmill thought that my heartbeat was zero, when the goal was really 137 beats per minute. In order to give me more of a challenge and get my heartbeat heated, the machine began to slowly increase the incline, hoping to see my compliance. Yet without feedback, the machine did not know when to stop. The incline slowly, yet incessantly, increased. The microprocessor was baffled, but not beaten. What was a small gathering around me soon grew to include sidewalk shoppers and car parkers. It was my show to grow and I watered it well with a tidal wave of sweat, as each minute became more challenging. When climbing in the Himalayas, Sherpas bear the heavy loads while the Western Elite eat candy bars and suck oxygen by the bottle-load. The Sherpas are magnificent in their aerobic conditioning and acclamation to rarified climes. They stoically bear their mighty loads with seeming indifference while climbing some of the steepest trails to the stars. Let it formally be known that I am no Sherpa. As the slope got steeper I, first tentatively, then desperately, held onto the bar in front of me. Through no conscious intent I missed the heart rate grips and hung on for dear life. Soon I was dangling from a horizontal bar with my toes tapping at the treadmill like a woodpecker gone wild. Only those with knowledge of Morse code could hear my aerobic SOS. There is a concept in microprocessor decision-making known as "fuzzy logic." It takes a little "yes" and a little "no," puts them in a margarita blender and blurs the two into a giant "maybe." Thus the treadmill came to the realization that something was amiss and slowly lowered the drawbridge, dropping me into the Castle of Cardio Contention. I dismounted the machine in a manly fashion and strode confidently into the changing room where I kissed some carpet and counted myself lucky to be alive. As my pulse slowed to impulse power something clicked in my head, for I circled to my feet and sprang out the door like a bird in a Cuckoo clock asking: "Are the free weights still analog, or have they also gone digital?" Lance was last seen rappelling from his roof, getting in shape for his next encounter at the gym. He may be exhumed at: [email protected]. Drop by and get the dirt. DailyTidings.com Home Page Valley&State | Backpage | O&E | Sports | Archives | Weather | Classifieds Columnists | Faith&Beliefs | Obituaries | Revels | Subscribe | Contact Us Copyright 2004 Ashland Daily Tidings and Ottaway Newspapers All Rights Reserved Site Search: .:Advertisements:. RESOURCES - ODOT Road Cams