I often use the concept of heart to teach denotation and connotation to my students. There's usually a few chuckles as I point out the humor that arises from confusing the two. I mean, literally having someone's heart in your hands isn't a particularly endearing or romantic image.
Ain't that the truth.
Now, as I'm nearing one of those "oh" birthdays, I'm encountering an entirely new level of meaning for heart.
As one who regularly pushes his own pulse rate well into the triple digits, I thought I'd do well to get it checked out, lest a "lively" bike ride end unceremoniously.
A little blip turned up. And that's it, really. Nothing to be concerned about, said the doc. No restrictions. This from a guy who was quite the cyclist back a few years.
No restrictions. But I did learn much more about my heart, via all sorts of medical equipment. An ultrasound of one's heart sounds an awful lot like walking through mud in a pair of Chucks. EKGs have a sort of seismic vibe. And, I'm proud to say, I held out for like 16 minutes on the stress test.
So, thanks, doc. My heart is still in your hands.
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