Drop Dead Healthy A. Jacobs (good novels to read .TXT) đ
- Author: A. Jacobs
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But isnât the foot designed to run barefoot? âThat doesnât mean itâs the best way to do it,â Dr. Archer says. âWe used to use dial-up modems. Should we stick with them? If youâre nearsighted, should you avoid glasses because theyâre not ânaturalâ?â
In fact, she suggests that I buy a foam insert for my sneakers. As McDougall said, I do land too hard on my heels.
Iâll return to Dr. Archer in a moment, but let me say this. After talking to other doctors and reading everything I could on the topic, I can confidently say: The juryâs still out on the barefoot movement. It shouldnât be dismissed as a wackadoodle fad. It does make some logical sense. But on the other hand, it probably shouldnât be adopted by everyone. Medicine is increasingly personal, and the feet are no exception. Itâs something to try. Nowadays, I take about a quarter of my runs sans shoes.
Back in Dr. Archerâs office, I slip off my shoes and socks for my exam.
She looks at my heels, which are covered in thick, callused skin. They have cracks big enough to fit dimes, maybe nickels.
Her diagnosis: âOuchy.â
Iâm going to need to add another task to my enormous list of daily commandments: exfoliating my heels in the shower. I tell her she should have seen my feet a week ago. Julie just took me to my first pedicure as part of Project Health, and the Korean woman spent five minutes polishing my heel.
âDid you like the pedicure?â she asked.
âNot really,â I say. The whole woman-kneeling-at-your-feet dynamic made me feel too much like a viceroy of a British colony.
âYou have to be careful with pedicures,â she says.
Dr. Archer lists all the horrible problems that pedicures can unleash. When you get a pedicure, she tells me, you are submerging your feet in a swamp of germs. The jets in the footbath are clogged with bits of skin from previous clients.
âPeople get fungus all the time from pedicures,â she says.
If I ever go again, she says, I should bring my own nail file, clippers, and buffers. In fact, Archer is releasing an antifungal treatmentâitâs made from tea tree oilâthat I could apply to my toes pre- and post-pedicure.
âAnd you should never let them cut the cuticles,â she says. âThe cuticles are your bodyâs defense against bacteria.â I assure her, my cuticles will remain intact.
Checkup: Month 14
Weight: 157
New vocabulary words learned to keep brain in shape: 301 (Todayâs: âcyanosis,â the condition of having blue skin.)
Quinoa consumed since start of project: 44 pounds
Pounds lifted on squat machine (15 reps): 360
Iâm typing this update in a tiny rented basement office. To get work done, I needed a refuge from my lovable but boundary-defying children.
Itâs a depressing and dank little dungeon thatâs only missing the foot chains. The upside? Itâs freezing. At times, I have to put on my Patagonia overcoat and type with a pair of fingerless gloves.
This is good, because being cold burns more calories. A 2009 article in the journal Obesity Reviews by a University College London professor reports that the obesity epidemic can be blamed partly on our tendency to crank up the thermostat. American bedroom temperature has crept up from 66.7 degrees in 1987 to 68 in 2005. When itâs chilly, we have to burn more fuel just to maintain our body temperature. Cold also activates something called brown fat, which is easier to burn than white fat.
Tim Ferrissâs book The 4-Hour Body recommends cold therapy for weight loss. He says an ice pack on the back of the neck will help. Or if youâre a tough guy, a ten-minute ice bath. I hate that my dungeon has no treadmill desk, but at least I am shivering.
Incidentally, my arctic conditions havenât given me a cold. Which makes sense, since even Ben Franklin pointed out more than two centuries ago that cold doesnât cause colds.
But everyone else in my family does have a cold. Lucas, Zane, Jasper, Julieâtheyâre all sneezing and wheezing. Iâm the only one in no need of a neti pot.
Itâs no fun to be surrounded by cranky coughers, and I feel terrible, especially for Lucas, who is leaking like the maddening air conditioner on the floor above us. But thereâs a small part of me that is smugly satisfied.
All this sweating, eating right, and stressing lessâmaybe itâs working. Maybe this is what it feels like to be healthy. Maybe my overly welcoming immune system has finally decided to get rude. Itâs a historic time.
Chapter 15
The Lungs
The Quest to Breathe Better
ON A SATURDAY, we take our kids to the Bodies exhibit at the South Street Seaport. This popular museum show displays actual cadavers in various positions. Some are cut into slices like a deli pastrami. Some are stripped of skin and frozen in heroic stances, such as tossing a football or conducting a symphony.
The exhibit is a little more graphic than I anticipated. Maybe a little much for my four-year-old twins. Maybe a little much for me. In the bone section, one glass case holds a tiny pelvic bone from what looks to be a six-month-old child.
The woman next to me peers into the glass case, spots the remains, and says, with all earnestness, âOhhhh. Thatâs so cute.â To me, not cute. Harrowing. It reminds me of Casper the Friendly Ghost, the strangest comic book in history. The creators just gloss right over the horrid backstory. Are we just supposed to forget that a child had to die to produce this chipper poltergeist?
Luckily, my sons arenât too fazed. They are most interested by a huge plastic container filled waist-high with packs of discarded cigarettes. They love the colors and designs on the boxes.
A sign next to the container warns: EVERY TIME YOU SMOKE A PACK OF CIGARETTES, YOU LOSE THREE HOURS AND FORTY MINUTES OFF YOUR LIFE. Passersby are encouraged to drop their packs in the slot and regain those hours.
âWhy do people smoke?â Jasper asks as we walk to
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