Sunday Firesides: Exercise, Man’s Most Faithful Companion
Picture for a moment a man out running in the cool evening air. He appears to be alone. But he is not.
He once ran cross-country in high school. He runs still as a middle-aged man, though no longer for prizes or for time. Simply for the physicality of it, the visceral enjoyment.
He has run weekly, sometimes daily for most of several decades now.
Running was there for him when it was the activity which best channeled and reflected the heart-racing excitement of first falling in love. Running was also there when it was the activity which best managed his depression when that love imploded.
Running was always available to lend a listening ear, to help him process his exultations and griefs; hopes and disappointments; plans for the future, and for vindication; sketches of what he would say and how he would say it; intimations of opportunities to come.
Running was invariably one of the first to greet him in a new place when he traveled. Running was the first friend he made when he moved across the country, and became his tour guide to getting to know his unfamiliar hometown.
Years have passed away; friends have come and gone; jobs have changed; children have progressed from diapers to blue jeans; even old Fido has gone the way of all the world. But running has been a constant through every season, location, and stage of life. Running has remained by the man’s side through it all.
As it is with running, so it is with every physical practice, be it walking, lifting, biking, swimming, and so on: exercise is our steadfast companion, comrade, sidekick, therapist, and, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say, protector. Always a step away, always ready to bear our joys and burdens, always faithful.
Note: This Sunday Fireside was first published on AoM. From time to time, we’ll be reposting previously published firesides to introduce new readers to gems from the SF archives.
i recently had my knee replaced and have not been able to do my normal exercise routines. Like most things in life we do not know how much we value something until we cannot do it anymore.
I ran semi-consistently for a decade, before blowing out my right knee in 2014. In 2006-2007 I rediscovered hiking. In late Jr. High I got my first weight set. While running is no longer in the mix (I say things like, “if I’m running try to keep up”, and “I don’t have to be fast, just faster than you.”), the act of walking/hiking has become a critical survival need.
Over the years, as melancholy and anxiety have beset me, walking has in a way allowed me to put a perceived distance between me and those moods. When all is well, walking helps to keep me well, and to keep me moving.
Weights have woven in and out for decades, but walking is the bare minimum, and the foundation of so much of what keeps me physically and mentally viable.
Motions is lotion. Movement is lubricant. And not only physically so.
Thanks for sharing, Kate!