“I’m not kidding; it’s Miracle-Gro for the brain!”  The statement reminded me of some ridiculous infomercial infecting late night TV.  In this case however, it was generated from the mouth of a world class neurobiologist, so I took notice.  He was speaking of a substance called Brain Derived Neurotrophic Factor (BDNF).  What immediately intrigued me was he claimed that BDNF was the link between exercise and improved brain function.  For years I had read articles in both the medical and running journals touting the psychological benefits of fitness, yet here was proof that fit folks were happier folks.  Dr.John Ratey, a clinical professor of psychiatry at Harvard, outlined in his amazing book “Spark: The Revolutionary New Science of Exercise and the Brain” how exercise increased the production of BDNF which in turn stimulated nerve cells to grow and connect in the Hippocampus, a tiny area in the brain responsible for a number of high level functions. This growth of new cells actually translated into better memory and quicker learning.  He went on to claim that certain other chemicals were released by exercising muscles that improved functioning in the amygdala, the emotional center of the brain.  The implications of this and other research are monumental. 

     Twenty-five years ago when I was in medical school we were taught that we were born with a set number of neurons (brain cells) and there were no more to be made…period.  I remember joking in college about taking another late night excursion to the disco (yes, I am that old!) to “kill some brain cells” with Singapore Slings and Jack and Coke.  We didn’t fret about the wholesale slaughter of brain cells as we all knew from biology class that we only used 20% of our brain anyway.  In our way of thinking, that gave us a pretty good cushion!  It was the unlucky folks born with fewer brain cells, and we all knew a few of those, who had the most to fear.  We were wrong on all accounts.  Now research is proving that new brain cells can be created, and formed in areas that have a major effect on cognition and emotions.  Don’t take this as permission to guiltlessly get plastered; I don’t need to tell you of the disastrous effects of that, but it does open the door for medical miracles.  The study of such alphabet soup as BDNF, IGF-1, and VGEF and other neuropeptides has given hope to developing successful treatments for senile dementia, Alzheimer’s and Parkinsonism.  Medicine is not there yet, but we can conclude that getting fit by exercising regularly can reduce the incidence of these diseases as well as certain cancers and diabetes. 

    

 The great news is that you don’t have to train for a marathon to reap the benefits of fitness. The studies indicate that a brisk walk for 45 minutes three to four times a week can elicit these life enhancing outcomes.

    

One of the most exciting applications of this knowledge is illustrated by the Naperville school district.  A middle class suburb south of Chicago, Naperville has been the focus of a real-life experiment documenting the benefits of fitness in kids.  It is no surprise that kids who are active are more physically fit than their sedentary counterparts, but what has been found in Naperville is that these fit kids are also smarter!  Over the past seventeen years the school district, consisting of 11 elementary schools, five junior high schools and two high schools, has made physical education an integral part of the school day (unlike the national average where only 6% of high schools have a daily PE program).  Their gym class is not your typical dodge ball, basketball, softball curriculum (the average student in the typical hour long PE class spends 16 minutes actively moving).  It is a program that promotes and measures fitness, not competition, and grades based on effort, not ability.  They regularly run or ride bikes using donated treadmills and stationary bikes measuring effort by heart rate monitors. And they do it at a lower cost per student than comparable school systems!  The results have been amazing.  In 2002, 97% of entering freshmen were at a healthy body mass index (BMI) as compared to the national average of 65% and most striking was the impact that fitness had in the classroom.  In that same year 96% of the eighth graders took the Trends in International Math and Science Test, an instrument designed to compare student’s knowledge level in different countries around the world.  On the science part of the test the Naperville students scored the highest…in the world!  Through a strict and comprehensive analysis it was shown that regular physical activity and fitness level correlated with the academic success of the Naperville students!

     

The message is clear.  For adults and kids alike, regular aerobic exercise is not only good for the body, but it is great for the mind.             

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         Norman Cousins, while struggling with a severe neuromuscular disease, said, “Laughter is like internal jogging. Ten minutes of genuine belly laughter had an anesthetic effect and would give me at least two hours of pain-free sleep.” Those of you who regularly scan Reader’s Digest remember a column titled, “Laughter is the best medicine”.  Indeed it is, and sometimes we forget that.  So here is my prescription for surviving everyday stress…laugh three times a day!  Some of the most effective laughter is that which we do at ourselves.  The less serious we take ourselves, the less burdensome everyday stresses and strains.  For example, I recently attended a local high school football game and quickly lapsed into a flashback when the bands took the field for the halftime entertainment.  No, I wasn’t in the band in high school.  The idea of walking backwards in circles while reading music was a bit overwhelming, but my mother was convinced that I had the potential to be the next John Philip Souza.  She felt that one way to navigate the treacherous waters of a new high school was to join their celebrated band.  I had just been uprooted from a comfortable middle school existence in Memphis to the mountains of East Tennessee , replete with orange painted outhouses, to begin my high school years.  I was the size of a Hobbit, and about as good-looking, so my social integration options were vastly limited.  I certainly was not a candidate for football (a religion in Knoxville) although; in retrospect, I would have made a wonderful tackling dummy.  Track was not an option as I had the speed of an anemic sloth.  Basket ball…well let’s just say dribbling at the level of other’s knees didn’t fare well for a stellar career.  So maybe the band was a way that I could find my niche in an otherwise niche-less existence.  At least my mother thought so.  So the first day a school she set up an appointment with the band director to discuss my future musical career.  Unfortunately, she made me come along.  Once we arrived in the hallowed sanctuary known as the “band room” , Mr.Jenkins, the band teacher, granted us an audience. 

     “Now exactly what instrument does your boy play?”, he asked condescendingly.  I felt this was a rather appropriate question and a reasonable place to start the discussion until it dawned on me that I didn’t play an instrument.  I suspected that my mother also knew this as she had not seen or heard me with anything other than a kazoo since kindergarten, but she was not fazed by the inquiry. 

     

     “He doesn’t…yet”, she confidently replied.  This obviously was not the response Mr. Jenkins was expecting as he stared at her with a look that said, “Well what in the name of Beethoven are you doing here then?”  Mom, ever the perceptive sort, picked up on his incredulity and explained that before we invested in lessons or instruments, she wanted to get his impression as to which instrument I was best suited to play.  At this point I was busily plotting both my escape and my plan for putting mom on medication.  I had read of studies that looked at a person’s likelihood of being a criminal based on their physical traits, you know, beady eyes, big forehead etc, but I had yet to see any research correlating a person’s physical appearance and their ability to master a band instrument.  I felt myself slowly sinking into “Music Man” hell.  Mr. Jenkins composed himself, obviously trying to pacify the crazy woman sitting before him, and shot a glance at my face, as if to say, “Is she serious?” I cocked my head, subtly conveying the dual message that yes, she is serious and she may be armed, so do what she asks.  He then proceeded to survey my mouth, fingers, eyes and anything else he could possibly think of that would indicate the ideal instrument for me.  It was like being scrutinized for lice after being accused of infecting the whole school.  

     After what seemed like hours, he stopped, grunted, and said “trumpet…yes, trumpet”.  A huge grin crossed mom’s face as this seemed to validate her quest.  All I could think of was Dizzy Gillespie, that huge, old guy who puffed out his cheeks to the size of a steroid laced chipmunk whenever he played his horn.  I didn’t want to walk around school with the cheeks of a bloated rodent, so I instantly expressed my apprehension.  Of course, my protest fell on deaf ears as mom was already negotiating horn rentals and lesson fees.  

     How was I supposed to get the girls playing something you have to clear spit out of every few minutes?  Neil Diamond never wooed a woman with his classic marching tunes!  As I walked out of the room, visions of chapped lips and elastic cheeks dancing in my head, I realized that maybe I needed to find a better way to fit in.  I wonder if girls dig science projects?

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