Valentine’s Day Special Edition: A Love Letter to the Heart

INK + OXYGEN: Chapter SIX

INK+OXYGEN is my (mostly) weekly series from the intersection of medicine and creating.
Each entry mentions something I consumed recently, a book, an essay, a paper, and ends with how it actually shows up in real life: in the ICU, at home, or in my own head. No summaries, no book reports. Just one idea, one honest application, and the next line I’m trying to draw.

This is Chapter 6.

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Happy Valentine’s Day.

I don’t normally post on Saturdays but here we go. Leading up to today, it seems like everyone talks about hearts in reds and pinks, in chocolate boxes, flowers and handwritten cards. But here on INK + OXYGEN, I want to talk about the heart the way we should think of it, as a muscle. As a machine. As the thing that keeps you in the game.

February is Heart Month, and I set out to honor it with a challenge of my own: pick up more rowing. Get on the machine. Push the heart rate. Because here’s the truth that doesn’t fit on a Valentine: I figured the best thing you could do for the people you love is to take care of the engine that keeps you alive for them.

That’s where VO2 max comes in.

If you’re not familiar, VO2 max is the maximum amount of oxygen your body can use during intense exercise. The prevailing theory is that it is the single strongest predictors of longevity we have. Not cholesterol or blood pressure (although these matter), but VO2 max. Your body’s ability to take in oxygen and deliver it to working muscles tells us more about how long and how well you’ll live than almost any other metric based on theory today. And the beautiful part? It’s trainable. At any age.

Rowing is one of the best ways to build it. It’s full-body, low-impact, and when you settle into its traditionally taught rhythm of catch, drive, finish, and recover, it then becomes almost meditative. Your lungs open. Your heart responds. Tiny beads of sweat telling you that oxygen is now flooding the system.

That’s the love letter your heart actually needs.

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Now, I’ll be honest: I’ve had a quiet spell here. Life pulls you in different directions, the mind gets distracted, and the challenge hasn’t taken shape the way I planned. (The drawings have been sparse too, oye.)

But Heart Month isn’t over, and neither is the commitment.

In the meantime, I’ve been reading.

I’m working through 1929 right now, and there’s a connection here that might not be obvious. It’s a long almost 600-page detailed read about a the infamous 1929 US stock market crash, its key financiers and the warning signs before the market collapse. But the chapters turn fast, kind of like my rowing sessions.

I also just started Breath by James Nestor…only a few chapters in, but already it’s reinforcing something I see with patients every day. How we breathe matters as much as whether we move.

More on these as I get deeper into them/finish.

And then there’s the ink.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Japanese pens lately (I mentioned this in my previous post: Chapter FIVE of INK + OXYGEN). The Sailors, the Pilots, the Platinums. There’s a craftsmanship to Japanese stationery that mirrors something I value in medicine: precision married to care. Every nib is ground with intention. When I sit down to draw, even when the output has been thin this month, the process slows everything down. The ink flows. The hand steadies. The breath deepens.

Drawing is one of the ways I rest and reset, that way I can get back on the bike, get back to the weights, get back on the rower, and get the oxygen moving through the system the way it’s meant to move.

So here’s my Valentine’s Day message, and it’s not the romantic kind: love your heart. Not the cartoon one on the card, but the four-chambered one behind your ribs that’s been beating for you since before you took your first breath. Train your VO2 max. Row. Ride. Lift. Walk. Breathe with intention. Do the maintenance so the system doesn’t collapse.

The ink isn’t dry. The challenge isn’t over. And your heart deserves more than one day a year.

I should take my own advice and go for a row today. With gratitude, of course.

Happy Heart Month, friends.