...not that I didn't use the bipeds. The last couple of months I have started to walk more than I would normally exercise my feet. I get off some three stops before my scheduled cab drop point and proceed home, with a what now seems regular pitstop at a bakery to meet a friend for some chai and exchange of ideas, news and general banter on subjects varying from the latest offering by James Cameron to a brand of bread called Manna. The original idea to walk the distance was a) to get off my ass (this is the only form of exercise I indulge in, apart from Garfield's favourite, deep breathing) and b) never mind the b(it never came out the way I thought it would, or maybe I thwarted it at a rather early stage).
Many might lunge at me questioning, at my age how am I justifiably claiming to gain exercise (read as loose a few inches of the waist) out of a walk. And a full 15 minute one at that. I gently riposte with a quick reminder of my days in those most hallowed of sweat pits-the gym. The one I frequented or less frequented for the one month's fees which I had deposited with them was called Athena, and how cruelly she must be turning in her mythical grave, a goddess of wisdom, peace, strategy and a whole lot of other things[women being better multi-taskers, so is the claim of management books] relegated to the basement of a slightly dilapidated building to roof grotesque machines which when pulled or pushed would make your body ache, all in the name of shaping your physique! Add to that discordant songs of this variety, it was surprising that I didn't get physical with the DJ, who incidentally was also the instructor, leaving me with options to a) quit and b) quit really fast. There ends my story of any kind of body sculpting.
I have been at the end of many a joke about my, what i call rectangular physique. The latest being when the colleagues in office feel that the AC has been cranked up and feel rather chill while I don't, because of the extra lining of fat that I have endowed myself with since I developed pinniped like capabilities of subcutaneous storage of lipidinous substances. I shrugged at their attempts to get me to do something about it. I am naturally big-boned, I cant attempt to come in natures way!
Sometime back a friend who visits one of the more upmarket sweat pit generating institutions referred me to a site www.prisonworkout.com, which I promptly surfed for, explored and erased from my memory, until now of course. That was to bring it to your attention! I might subjugate myself into following its instructions seriously, one day, maybe tomorrow. Maybe not...
But in the mean time, I shall continue to walk. Its more enjoyable and less of a strain on the muscles, not to mention of other benefits of observing the world at a leisurely pace or having ideas (mostly unproductive, nevertheless Ideas, its the thought that counts at such moments, of being grateful for a semi-functional grey cell container) popping up every other minute. More on that in a separate post, for now I need to deep breathe in a state of dormanZZZs.
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