A sad (troubling?) observation I made last night at the gym was how old — perhaps time-worn would be more appropriate — people were there plodding along on the dreadmill. People around my age, or not too much older, and they all looked grey and joyless.
Their motions were very mechanical; a plodding walk on the machine which reminded me of thoughts a plough horse might have, “One more day, one more row, hoof in fromt of the other until it’s time for oats.” Contrasted to me, who was bopping along to Cruxshadows, Xymox, Florence & the Machine, Voltaire…
It struck home to me how much I need exercise to play, because they all looked miserable stuck in their “I should be (have to be/need to be) doing this” prisons. That’s one of the biggest reasons I stopped running a few years ago — as soon as I feel it’s an obligation/duty/chore I’m ready to wriggle out of it and do other things. Generally involving play.
I give all adults permission to play!!
So, yes, I dance-walked for 30 minutes (5 min warm-up and cool-down on either side) and clocked in a nice 2 miles. The dance-walking is a reverse of Irish dancing. My legs keep walking, but I shoulder and arm dance. Or play air drums… and sing silently. Hey, it’s a no judgement zone. Exercise like nobody’s watching.
Weigh-in news for today – I am now, officially (from my doctor’s office scale) 276 lbs. That’s a sweet 10 lb burning up of fat since starting. I’m well pleased.