Perhaps one of the most aggravating agonies of the current lockdown is the challenge to fitness.
|Exercising the rights ... Getting to the gym is not a problem in many countries. Not so in Britain, though. Photo by Stephanie Greene on Unsplash.|
I have a gym in the neighbourhood, lucky me. It’s just 10 minutes’ walk away, three or four minutes’ by bike.
It encouraged a useful routine.
Leap out of bed at the crack of dawn - and a little before in the winter - and do about 20 minutes of exercising.
I think it's termed ‘stretching exercises’ and is just about the same routine I kept strictly to during the eight appalling years of totally unjust imprisonment – the work of a crooked prosecution.
|Fit for fun ... to enjoy a good life, people need to be fit like these ladies. However, our glorious leaders don't seem to give it any importance. Photo by Stephanie Greene on Unsplash.|
The prisons were full back then, early in the century, but not as packed as we hear of today, thankfully. But for one or two grumpy uniforms, I wasn’t discouraged from dawn workouts.
Here, these days in COVID lockdown, I can follow the home side of the exercises, more or less, whatever I want to. But there’s the rub.
Outdoors, where the world and everyone else is to be found, remains out of bounds, more or less according to the government’s dictates – at least for those of us not classified as ‘advisors’.
Before, my exercise regime would be followed by a brisk ride to the local gym and a workout of about 45 minutes. Four times a week.
My moan is not just that it assured we amateur gymnasts that we were staying fit, the routine provided a psychological advantage to the adversities of the day.
A hidden challenge
Well, it was a positive routine and that felt good, even if it rather restricted night-time plans.
This is a hidden challenge that comes with the government dictates. Our, er, glorious leaders were very slow to get it going, and are proving tardy in giving up control.
There’s a psychological aspect to the changed circumstances, too. I’m not familiar enough with the intriguing subject to quite understand why, but now leaping from bed to perform gymnastics has become much less simple.
Instead, a sort of creativity gets exercised – listing reasons why I can’t be bothered doing it this morning.
Increased weight is the mocking of the bathroom scales. It’s not much extra, but it’s quite enough to rankle.
Long-ish walks have been added to the discipline – almost nightly – and although my initials aren’t 'DC', I’ve been able to get away with some wonderful rambles over the nearby countryside.
The sooner the madness ends - the queuing so we can spend money to buy food, and keeping shut the mind-gyms, the libraries, and our gyms for the bodies - the happier we’ll all have reason to be.
And the fitter - and healthier - we can become ...
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