Coming back to physical activity after years of inactivity.
Here's the dope:
45 y/o, 5'9" 170 lbs. No real gut, no fat really anywhere (possibly some between my ears). Former .mil; was at one point quite athletically well trained. Weak upper body, skinny, flailing girl-like arms capable of holding up to seventeen cotton balls for half-a-minute. Legs quite strong, and have been so since teen years; in 1983 I standing-broad-jumped a world record in my sister's kitchen (I am not making this up).
Not a runner for distance, but a great sprinter. Problems: Type II diabetes; blood sugars around 150 fasting. Docs allowing me to diet-control; unsuccessful. They tried one of their magic pills and it made me sicker than hell, irritable, fainting. Major neck injury resulting in arthritic spines pinching nerves in between C4-C5. Strength weak in military press. On statin and ACE inhibitor drugs due to high cholesterol numbers; drugs keep this in check. "Funny" heart beat, nobody's ever said I had a problem but docs scratch their heads trying to figure out the sounds. Poor endurance running; get winded very easily.
Resting HR jumps around between 78 - 90. While on stupid machine at gym can get 179 w/o any trouble or even feeling winded; If I run it may go over 200.
I feel like I am a rickety old fart who may totter over and die basically any second. If an aggressive 11-year-old girl scout wanted my lunch money, I couldn't outrun or out-wrestle her, much less a tough young street punk.
I used to be kind of a tough customer, but that went away some 20 years back following a life of disappointment, bitterness, romantic failure, family tragedies, and personal course-changes. How did I become this strange person?
I've been in the gym a couple of weeks now and I am seeing some stabilization of my HR, so I have begun to do the thirty-minute zone exercise, followed by about 30 minutes of weight training on machines. While the cardio shit appears to be dragging me back from the brink of death, the weight stuff is just showcasing how pathetically weak and decayed I am. Seriously, if the SHTF, I'd probably break both my twigs holding up my carbine to reload.
So now that you've heard my horrible story, do you have any suggestions on where I can go to follow some kind of regimented plan? I feel like I may have better success if I know what is expected of me, and if I have some kind of goal for which to strive.