Today it’s a sunny 18 degrees C. Problem is, it was sunny at 5:30AM when the love of my life woke and asked me to walk the dog. It’s not that I have anything against walking — I can do it just fine. But around here, walking has taken on a new significance.
Now when you walk, it’s exercise.
The kind of slow walking I grew up with, and liked… you know, the kind of walking that allows you to experience things along the way. The kind of walking that encouraged you to stop to enjoy a conversation with other blokes who are also walking their poodles. Well, it’s that kind of walking that’s been hijacked by the health and diet police.
Now the only real kind of walking requires a personal trainer, a mandatory set of hand weights, an iPod and of course a bottle of mineral water strapped to your waiste. You need to wear the right gear and to striding-out arms swinging with eyes fixed doggedly forward. It’s an interesting look!
Every day I watch people walking this way and can’t help thinking they have more than a few screws loose. Besides being fixated, they don’t seem to want to take any time to smell the roses or enjoy the sweet air of the morning. And when you give them a polite g’day they certainly not interested in stopping to have a convo. Also, they seem to produce an incredible overabundance of sweat, which I am sure is not good for the environment.
Exercise has become a statement — a way of defining who you are. So, as of today, I decided I’m not going to join that crowd — and I’m going to implement a strict no-walking regime. Anyway, I wouldn’t be seen dead wearing a pedometer.