It’s a calm morning and as I round the corner where the scratches of this early morning shimmer cannot reach, my feet crunch uncomfortably through the audible frost that looks nor sounds nothing like the grass just a few steps back. Uncomfortable only because my feet are held captive—boxed in by these things you call ‘shoes’. All that separates me from snow-worthy temperatures is a thin layer of hemp and or linen and some warm woolen socks and glittens. I’m warm, content, and not the least bit burdened by my early morning stroll. Deep breaths of fresh cold air and even a short jaunt to the top of the waterfall.
You on the other hand…
You’re a middle-aged human pumping your fists against heart disease. A breast-awareness cancer-eating calorie crusher. A maniacal peddler whose finally taken to the bike, but not because Santa brought it.
I can’t help but chuckle when I see you on the trails. It’s that same chuckle that stirs when I hear about fundraising for cancer research. You make your body work so hard to filter all the bullshit of modern living—and then you hit the ground running? Grimace and all?
Do you really think clogged arteries that cannot deliver oxygen nor the nutrients your cells require, need more stress? Exercise is a fad. A big belly phenomenon. Our ancestors didn’t have $10 monthly memberships or chocolate brownie whey atop the fridge. They had the same diseases and disorders to contend with, whether recognized or not, but they fought it differently. Differently, but like us, ineffectively.
I look forward to my daily adventures. I look forward to no miserable huffin’ and puffin’s when I notch my first eight decades. Typing this makes me think of that old geezer at the YMCA fighting a war with the stiff abdominal board. Up, cringe, crunch. Down, cringe, pant. Repeat and I’ll cya tomorrow (no I won’t).
Life shouldn’t be so hard. Life shouldn’t be so complicated. And the best part—it’s not.