Use It or Lose It
Who needs acronyms or song titles when there are a million cliches to use as titles?
Taking a little walk in the morning before work, over in the city I climb to the third level of the Embarcadero centers and swing along the three-block-long walkway that skims over the cross streets and affords a great view of the skyscrapers shimmering in the rising sunlight. As I walk, I pass many huddled figures -- who seem to be on fire! Oops, wrong -- they're just inhaling poisonous burning gas into their lungs. I'd help them, but (odd as it seems) they seem to be doing this sinister activity on purpose.
When I get to my building in the financial district, before I can reach for the front door handle someone pops the automatic door opener, which has been provided for the physically disabled. I notice many people stream through the electronically activated door, their presumably non-disabled arms hanging limply at their sides.
Exiting the BART train in the evening, I see a long line of commuters who have gotten off at the front of the train shuffling in a long line that leads to the "up" escalator. Soon they're joined by another shuffling line coming from the rear of the train, this one made up of folks who have had to walk the length of the platform, past two stairways, to get to the "up" escalator.
People, people, people!
I do believe that we were given bodies so we could use them. Here's my rant: you only have a finite number of hours left to live. This is a fact. You can seriously reduce this number by not using your body. If you don't walk, if you smoke, if you let machines handle every minor obstacle in your path from the moment you awake until the moment you push the "off" on your remote and fall asleep (I KNOW you're watching TV in bed), I can guarantee you that you will feel lousy for most of your remaining life -- but, not to worry, it probably won't be that long anyway.
I hate myself when I get all righteous.
But -- Legs. Made to walk, made to climb, made to carry you through a life that's rich and full. Arms. Made to move obstacles, to carry goods, to hug the people you love before they die from their slovenly ways (or before you do). Lungs, made to be strong, to breathe fresh air that fuels muscles.
In athletics there's a phenomenon known as the training effect. It's based on physiology: if you stress your system, it makes it stronger. If you walk up ten stairs ten times, soon you'll be walking up twenty stairs. If you exercise aerobically for ten minutes (and quit smoking, you moron!), soon your lungs and heart will get so strong you'll be able to exercise aerobically for twenty minutes. Plus, you'll lose weight (another phenomenon: calories in [food] can't exceed calories out [exercise] or you will gain weight).
I rant because I love you all, every single one of God's critters. I don't want to lose you before it's your natural time to go. It's a beautiful day -- get out there. And skip the elevator and the escalator. Take the damn stairs.
I haven't even had that much caffeine.
Taking a little walk in the morning before work, over in the city I climb to the third level of the Embarcadero centers and swing along the three-block-long walkway that skims over the cross streets and affords a great view of the skyscrapers shimmering in the rising sunlight. As I walk, I pass many huddled figures -- who seem to be on fire! Oops, wrong -- they're just inhaling poisonous burning gas into their lungs. I'd help them, but (odd as it seems) they seem to be doing this sinister activity on purpose.
When I get to my building in the financial district, before I can reach for the front door handle someone pops the automatic door opener, which has been provided for the physically disabled. I notice many people stream through the electronically activated door, their presumably non-disabled arms hanging limply at their sides.
Exiting the BART train in the evening, I see a long line of commuters who have gotten off at the front of the train shuffling in a long line that leads to the "up" escalator. Soon they're joined by another shuffling line coming from the rear of the train, this one made up of folks who have had to walk the length of the platform, past two stairways, to get to the "up" escalator.
People, people, people!
I do believe that we were given bodies so we could use them. Here's my rant: you only have a finite number of hours left to live. This is a fact. You can seriously reduce this number by not using your body. If you don't walk, if you smoke, if you let machines handle every minor obstacle in your path from the moment you awake until the moment you push the "off" on your remote and fall asleep (I KNOW you're watching TV in bed), I can guarantee you that you will feel lousy for most of your remaining life -- but, not to worry, it probably won't be that long anyway.
I hate myself when I get all righteous.
But -- Legs. Made to walk, made to climb, made to carry you through a life that's rich and full. Arms. Made to move obstacles, to carry goods, to hug the people you love before they die from their slovenly ways (or before you do). Lungs, made to be strong, to breathe fresh air that fuels muscles.
In athletics there's a phenomenon known as the training effect. It's based on physiology: if you stress your system, it makes it stronger. If you walk up ten stairs ten times, soon you'll be walking up twenty stairs. If you exercise aerobically for ten minutes (and quit smoking, you moron!), soon your lungs and heart will get so strong you'll be able to exercise aerobically for twenty minutes. Plus, you'll lose weight (another phenomenon: calories in [food] can't exceed calories out [exercise] or you will gain weight).
I rant because I love you all, every single one of God's critters. I don't want to lose you before it's your natural time to go. It's a beautiful day -- get out there. And skip the elevator and the escalator. Take the damn stairs.
I haven't even had that much caffeine.
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