Bob Gralley's heart belongs to his wife, Betty, whom he has loved for 60 years. But on this day, it's a petite 29-year-old blonde who makes his heart race. Literally.
Attached with tubes and straps to a monitor that will take a snapshot of his heart and lung health, Gralley runs on a treadmill, as his young trainer methodically increases the speed. Faster, faster, faster, faster, Gralley's New Balance running shoes pound the mat of the whirring machine.
The trainer, Krista Schultz, had predicted Gralley's heart would max out at about 138 beats per minute, but at the end of a 12-minute run, she had logged his highest rate at 157 beats.
This would be a fine maximum for a man of 63.
But Bob Gralley is 82 - and in two weeks, he will run in the Columbia Triathlon as the last leg of a relay team. He'll run about six miles after a teammate bikes about 25 miles and another swims about a mile.
"There are people half his age who can't run in a triathlon, much less people who are his age," said Dr. Shannon Winakur, a cardiologist with Mid-Atlantic Cardiovascular Associates and a spokeswoman for the American Heart Association. "It's certainly not the norm for an 82-year-old, but it is truly inspirational."
In fact, Gralley's teammates on the Erickson Retirement Communities-sponsored team are half his age, and he will be the oldest person ever to compete in the annual event, which is May 18 at Centennial Park, between Ellicott City and Columbia.
"That kind of drive is unbelievable," said Lee Corrigan, executive director of the Under Armour Baltimore Marathon, which Gralley has run.
But Gralley shrugs off the awestruck reaction his fitness level garners.
"My heart goes up when I'm near pretty girls," he said, by way of explanation, as Schultz blushes.
Comely trainers notwithstanding, the truth is that Gralley has been working on his heart, without even knowing it, for more than 35 years.
When he was in his mid-40s, living in Westport, Conn., as an executive with Mutual of New York, Gralley noticed he was putting on a few pounds too many.
Mint chocolate chip ice cream was the culprit, and - aside from some sailing and the occasional tennis game - inactivity.
So he started to jog, tentatively at first, a few times a week, around the neighborhood.
"In those days jogging was not in," Gralley said. "If someone would run down the street in a pair of shorts, it'd be well, `What's the matter with that guy?'"
