“Did you know we walked six miles today by simply running
around on this project?” My friend said.
Another friend looked at the electronic fat butt monitor on
her wrist. “Mine says we walked eight flights of steps in the process.”
“I’m never volunteering to work at this event again because
it was just a trick to get me to exercise.” Of course…that was me.
A local spin instructor shook her head at us. “This doesn’t
count as a workout. You three need to come to my class tonight.”
“The only thing I’ll be doing tonight is soaking my feet in
Epsom salt and drinking a margarita.” Again me, in case there was any doubt.
If the exercise-till-you-have-a-stroke instructor is correct
and the four hours I just spent racing around a field and hillside non-stop as
a volunteer, ironically at a sporting event, doesn’t count as exercise then why
should I spend $150 for one of those electronic wrist daily exercise monitors?
For me those are a waste of money on all levels. First, I
don’t want a “chain” around my wrist reminding me every day what a lazy,
non-exercising, fat ass I am. And second, if all the time I spend on my feet,
lifting heavy shit up and down steep hills, cutting and stacking firewood, and
all the other outside work we do for ourselves and helping our neighbors in our
little pioneer valley isn’t a
workout then why wear one?
Many of my family were farmers and ranchers and never
“worked out” a day in their ninety to one hundred year lives. They were outside
daily in the fresh air. They were lean,
muscular and a hundred times stronger than all those I use to follow out of the
gym. (Yes, there was a time I went to the gym five days a week. Luckily, I
cured that addiction.)
You won’t see me obsessing over a monitor on my wrist. And
you won’t see me at a spin class with a detox juice. You’ll know me by my
cowboy hat, chaps, the hay bale I’m throwing, and cold beer in my hand.
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