Post by tborella on Mar 6, 2012 18:44:40 GMT -5
Hi everyone.
Not a world-shattering achievement, but I sent another one of those 'Soapbox' columns in to the Australian and they say they'll publish it in the next few weeks.
They're fun to do and you can basically write on any subject you like (450 words) and email them in.
Here's what I sent:
SLOW DOWN, YOU MOVE TOO FAST.
Exercise and me go back a long way. It’s not that I’m particularly fit or athletic; our relationship is more based on a version of the eternal fight between good and evil – in this case, between the desire for a virtuous lifestyle on the one hand and a tendency to eat and drink more than is good for me on the other.
So it’s out for a run, or as I did this morning, a hike up the hill track. As I passed a couple of fellow walkers, one commented on my brightly coloured sports shirt.
“It’s so they can spot me from the helicopter when I have a heart attack,” I said.
I don’t think I will just yet, though. As I said, exercise has been a constant part of my life for, well, most of my life, so by rights the widely touted benefits of all that sweating should come my way. I hope so - if not, I’ve wasted a whole bunch of heartbeats it might have been more prudent to save for later.
One benefit of putting in an effort when you’re out working on self-improvement (or in my case, maintaining an equilibrium) is that you ‘get in the zone’ – you stop thinking about the running or walking itself and drift off into your thoughts while your body keeps pounding along. Then, a little while later, you experience the pleasant realisation that you can’t really remember jogging up that hard bit. If only it worked all the time.
There’s a drawback to ‘the zone’, though – the very tuning out that helps you go the distance less painfully also stops you seeing all the little things that make being outside an adventure.
A while ago, my mother came to visit us in the lovely part of Queensland where we live. There’s no particularly polite way of putting this – she’s getting on, ageing, the wrong side of eighty. Perhaps ‘senior’ is the right term (sorry, Mum, but it has to be said – for the purposes of the article, you understand).
She, too, has been a long-time exerciser (not the pavement-pounding type, but a taker of regular long walks) so it seemed like a good idea to go out to a nearby lake for a wander around and some nice scones at the teahouse. We took the circuit track, ambling along at Mum’s sedate pace and having a good talk.
I’ve run and walked around that lake many times, but never that slowly. Neither have I enjoyed seeing the rainforest in such a leisurely, detailed way before, so thanks, Mum. It wasn’t a chore to wait for you, it was a pleasure.
Not a world-shattering achievement, but I sent another one of those 'Soapbox' columns in to the Australian and they say they'll publish it in the next few weeks.
They're fun to do and you can basically write on any subject you like (450 words) and email them in.
Here's what I sent:
SLOW DOWN, YOU MOVE TOO FAST.
Exercise and me go back a long way. It’s not that I’m particularly fit or athletic; our relationship is more based on a version of the eternal fight between good and evil – in this case, between the desire for a virtuous lifestyle on the one hand and a tendency to eat and drink more than is good for me on the other.
So it’s out for a run, or as I did this morning, a hike up the hill track. As I passed a couple of fellow walkers, one commented on my brightly coloured sports shirt.
“It’s so they can spot me from the helicopter when I have a heart attack,” I said.
I don’t think I will just yet, though. As I said, exercise has been a constant part of my life for, well, most of my life, so by rights the widely touted benefits of all that sweating should come my way. I hope so - if not, I’ve wasted a whole bunch of heartbeats it might have been more prudent to save for later.
One benefit of putting in an effort when you’re out working on self-improvement (or in my case, maintaining an equilibrium) is that you ‘get in the zone’ – you stop thinking about the running or walking itself and drift off into your thoughts while your body keeps pounding along. Then, a little while later, you experience the pleasant realisation that you can’t really remember jogging up that hard bit. If only it worked all the time.
There’s a drawback to ‘the zone’, though – the very tuning out that helps you go the distance less painfully also stops you seeing all the little things that make being outside an adventure.
A while ago, my mother came to visit us in the lovely part of Queensland where we live. There’s no particularly polite way of putting this – she’s getting on, ageing, the wrong side of eighty. Perhaps ‘senior’ is the right term (sorry, Mum, but it has to be said – for the purposes of the article, you understand).
She, too, has been a long-time exerciser (not the pavement-pounding type, but a taker of regular long walks) so it seemed like a good idea to go out to a nearby lake for a wander around and some nice scones at the teahouse. We took the circuit track, ambling along at Mum’s sedate pace and having a good talk.
I’ve run and walked around that lake many times, but never that slowly. Neither have I enjoyed seeing the rainforest in such a leisurely, detailed way before, so thanks, Mum. It wasn’t a chore to wait for you, it was a pleasure.
