Most mornings my wife goes for a walk with our poodle dog, Toots. She takes the car and parks it near the beach and then takes off on one of her many marathon jaunts. Me, I walk from home — for a shorter distance and at a slower pace, and I listen to an audio book and maybe take a few snapshots. We usually meet at a cafe and sit outside, drinking a coffee or two and passing the time of day talking with the many morning-people we have come to know and enjoy and watching the town wake and the kids ride passed on their bikes going to school.

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Strong black coffee and a swig of The Glenlivet — sometimes together — are my drugs of choice.

After living in Ganzi for two months my wife found no evidence of trouble or animosity between Tibetans and Chinese. Considering there where bombings and a huge Chinese crackdown in Ganzi only three years ago she was surprised and pleased to find what seemed like a harmonious, thriving and tolerant society. The only gripes she heard were along the lines of Tibetans wanting more of a say at the local government level.

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Saturday is the day Dads help carry the shopping, fix things around the house and are then assigned garden duty. But on Sunday, Sunday morning’s to be specific, these once free men are given leave to proudly walk out with their new born child. And @thebeach, that means the 3-wheeled stroller rules.

Walk the footpath, drive on the road or sit at a cafe and these huge 3×3′s go rolling by with proud, enthusiastic Dads at the helm. Some stroll, some jog but a few just walk while reading the Sunday paper, their morning latte perched in junior’s SUV cup holder.

These specialist off-road, on-road buggies soak-up every bump and with a full range of accessories Dad and junior can experience Downtown @thebeach in complete and fashionable safety.

There are special 3×3 all-weather, all-terrain, sport utility suspensions jobs. And if you have the cash (and the need) then I suppose you could add a modest nudge-bar, a few spotlights and Honda motor. You might even become a real threat to the guy who drives around all day trying to find a parking space big enough for his Hummer.

J. R. R. Tolkien once said, “It’s a dangerous business going out your front door.” And he didn’t even live @thebeach…

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.