Not even my best friends would suggest that exercise and I have an ongoing relationship. I am mostly deskbound in the workplace, and whilst I have occasionally taken to gyms at moments of wild enthusiasm, such activity is usually short-lived, sporadic or both.
However, needs must, and as I aspire to travelling the world in my eighties, drinking the occasional gin and tonic in exotic, faraway places, it has gradually dawned on me that, in my early-fifties, it might be wise to improve the odds that I will make it that far in a state that allows me to get on the aeroplane.
The catch? I still hate gyms, filled as they mostly are by people who are younger, fitter and have a taste in music that bemuses me at best, irritates at worst. Is it really necessary to play endless club/dance music by artists that I've never heard of? Apparently, in Ipswich at least, it is.
Fortunately, I live in the countryside, surrounded by gently rolling landscape, with nothing more threatening than the odd low-flying pheasant. And, on a sunny day, there is little finer than the walk north out of the village along Creeting Lane towards Stowupland. And so, I've taken to going for walks, with the intention to accumulate at least ten thousand steps a day. During the week, I walk around the centre of Ipswich, carrying out routine tasks like banking, buying groceries or making small, but necessary, purchases.
When it's dry, this is fine. But on a day like today, with driving, cold rain, and a log fire to sit in front of, it is very tempting to put the steps off to another day. And, knowing my levels of willpower and focus, once I get into the habit of deferring the walk, it probably won't happen and bang goes another good intention.
And so, with Ros off on a family errand, I steeled myself to go out into the rain and wind. The wind was a southerly, which at least meant that the rain was at my back as I headed towards Hammond's Corner (no, I have no idea why it's called Hammond's Corner, I just know that it is...). It wasn't too bad... really. Turning for home was another matter, however. But in my sensible jacket and cloth cap, I was sufficiently protected from the elements and beat my way back to the village.
Strangely enough, it is quite satisfying to have overcome my natural inertia and achieved the day's goal (11,829 steps as I type this), and perhaps I might stick to this long enough for it to become habit forming...
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