No rest for the weary

To have understanding of how things got out of control for me last week, you need a little background. We'll go back about 30 days.

There were three health trainers and experts at a June meeting to see if they could devise a program to get "Ostram back into better physical condition." One of them said, "Among other things George, you need to set goals. Do you have one we could discuss?"

"Yes," I said, "I want to be back climbing the biggest peaks in Glacier Park by the end of August."

He looked at my physique and said, "George, you didn't cultivate that pot belly in two months and we can't get it off in two months."

After completing laboratory tests for cholesterol, diabetes, blood pressure, and you name it, the "rebuilding of George Ostrom" began on Monday, July 10. The goal is to have me in shape to ski this winter and climb the mountains "next" summer.

They started me on six machines which are designed to build "muscle mass" because the trainer said men start losing muscle after the age of about fifty. I asked her if what that guy had called my "pot belly" might actually be some muscle that had just slid down a little because of 78 years' pull of gravity. She said it looked like there could be some muscle in there, but we'd know more after a few weeks on the machines.

Using one particular machine calls for sitting down and putting your feet on a vertical plate even with your chest, then pushing it out away from you and letting it come back, then pushing it out again. It can be set for up to 300 pounds of resistance; however, my trainer said we'd leave it at 25 pounds "for a while." On this and all the other muscle exercising machines they have beginners work on low weights and just do ten or twelve of the pushes, lifts, or curls per session.

After about half an hour on the muscle machines, we move to the aerobic (air) exercises that can be running, tread mills, and that sort of thing. The one I first used showed my walking speed and calories being used. After semi running until I felt near death, the machine said I'd used about 15 calories, so I got off and went for a drink of water, then walked rapidly around the track a few times.

Besides breaking in at the Summit, there were busy times working on my house, car, and hiking the Park Thursday where I photographed the ALERT rescue of a man injured from falling off his horse on a trail ride near Lake Josephine. When the victim was safely on his way to the hospital, a conversation began among park personnel…sort of a debriefing. One lady ranger, thinking back to the grizzly attack incident last year, brought up the point of "Why is it if something big happens around here, there's George Ostrom?" There was some silence, and then another ranger said, "Maybe we should be wondering why something big happens when Ostrom is here."

That's when I decided to leave the conference area for a hike up Swiftcurrent Trail.

On Friday I covered the radio newscasts from 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. because daughter Wendy was gone with her family on a weekend vacation.

That is why after a leisurely breakfast on Sunday I told First Wife Iris, "It has been a mighty busy week for me. I just want to sit around today, read the papers, maybe watch a little golf, and take a nap."

Iris said she understood and then went to answer the phone. She came to the living room where I had collapsed into the big recliner. "It's our eldest daughter Heidi. She and Julie were going climbing in the park today but her car broke down near Lake McDonald Lodge."

Heidi told me her husband Scot was gone on a float trip so I was the only one who could rescue her. She also reminded me that I was the one who wanted "all my kids to live here in the Flathead."

I told her I'd be up there in about an hour.

After we arranged for a tow truck to haul Heidi's car out of the park, she and her friend Julie said it would be nice if I went hiking with them like in the old days. Logan Pass was packed with no place to park so we went down and hiked a little ways up a game trail along Siyeh Creek for lunch. Afterward, we drove back over the Pass and down to the Loop, then hiked up toward Granite Park through the burn and the exquisite displays of globe-mallo (wild holly hocks).

Got home around 5:30 looking like I had been dragged through a knothole backwards, sipped a bit of medicinal brandy, ate a huge piece of banana cream pie from the Spruce Park Cafe, then told Iris I was going to bed to watch Sunday Night baseball. She said, "You ARE planning to take a shower first, right?"

Thinking back over the week I calculated, "This will be the ninth bath since last Sunday." And that is when I knew for sure… "this would be another summer when I'd have no chance…to build up a good protective crust."