Exercise Nearly Killed Me

I am losing the plot, somewhat, finding it harder and harder to think of things to blog about. I consider that I've done rather well, having meandered across God, poetry, travelogue, autobiographical revelation, enlightenment, political discourse and story-telling, not necessarily in that order: all of which are empty vessels,making no noise at all, at this moment.

But, in order to keep up with my aim of achieving 10,000 page views before I die, including one from Albania, I have to keep writing - and tag Norman Wisdom. 

I have nothing else to say about Norman Wisdom. EXCEPT that he looked strikingly like my late father-in-law. ( Who was a fan.) Sorry, Albania. 

So. I'm resorting to my least favourite topic: Health And Fitness. 

The New Scientist Tweets me it's content every day, and today one of the articles I read was about how this marvellous biological machine I am occupying, on a temporary basis, has evolved for endurance running, but without having selected for enjoyment in doing so. 

Hmmm, I thought, that's interesting. I bet I can blog on that.

Here's the scenario: Early hominid ( formerly known as 'Cave Man') has to run like the Dickens  in order to bag eland. S/He doesn't HAVE to enjoy the experience, or be overwhelmed with a desire to repeat it, because if s/he doesn't hop to it - I'm not here writing this. 

Contrast this with me and cheesecake. I lust after cheesecake, I'm up and at it with no prompting, I have evolved to want to eat cheesecake, most especially the chocolate variety. It's just unfortunate that I merely have to walk three paces to the  refrigerator to nab it. I may have to work on this.  

My ancestors, to whom I admit I owe a certain gratitude, have left me encumbered with a continual battle against my affinity for sitting still and stuffing myself with goodies. They are to blame for my dress size. 

Let us now ponder the 'high' runners get after a swift 10 000 metres round the block. They are elated because the woolly mammoth is in sight: buzzing because the hairy rhinoceros is in the bag. Their ancestry rewards them for loping through the early morning drizzle, and for cornering the catch. Not for shaking off the bearskin and heading for the cave mouth. Something is amiss.

Exercising is a chore. I don't know anybody who wants to exercise. I admit you're probably out there, too busy competing with the pacemaker software to bother with this. I have a friend, thin as a rail , who exercises TWICE a day, but is never happy about it. Is anyone? Apart from the fitness bores? 

I did put myself out to some extent today though: I made the effort to comment on the article that sparked me off:

Humans Are Endurance Champs Why Do We Hate Exercise?: Daniel Lieberman 

Here's my comment:

"Exercise Nearly Killed Me ... 

I almost died of boredom during a water aerobics class, so I took up Arabian Dance. I also invented 'bath gym' which is great, but has to come with anti-drowning caveats so cumbersome, the book lies unwritten. Oddly enough, I'm NOT joking.

The gym culture and the driven 'do better' emphasis of many exercise programmes, hold no appeal for me. So thinking of something that gets me moving and keeps me smiling at the same time, may have added years to my life."

Footnote:

Email me a plain brown paper envelope, marked, 'Private And Confidential' for, Bath Gym: Warm Up and Work Out In Three Easy Steps