Loss of body, gain of soul
Six weeks ago I changed some of my habits. I was typically spending between 40 and 50 pounds in four nights in the pub on meals and a couple of beers each evening, after walking for an hour or two. I bought a mountain bike and necessary accessories for £180, and stopped going to the pub.
In six weeks I have therefore saved myself somewhere between 240 and 300 pounds, or between 60 and 120 after deducting the cost of the bike. I have managed to lose half a stone in those six weeks, that's just over a pound a week. I have rediscovered that part of me that won't give up when presented with difficulties.
I haven't lost any money alongside the weight loss. If I had been going to the gym each evening I would have been spending gym fees in return for the vanishing pounds. Put out the pounds, and then put out the pounds. But the bike is mine to keep, and as I have now recovered the cost of it, the further savings are also mine to keep.
I have bought one other piece of equipment to help me with my program of regeneration; it cost me 4.99, and is simple enough to be carried in a pocket and used anywhere there is enough space. A skipping rope, perfect for developing coordination, and generating a type of step aerobics without the need to find a flight of steps. Also, unlike the bike, which demands that all the senses are keenly alert to listen for cars and other cyclists coming up behind, I can wear headphones whilst skipping and hop to the beat.
I'm adding this piece about the skipping rope because a friend of mine is bemoaning the fact that she can't afford to go to the gym and get fit again. I could afford it, if I chose, but I prefer to use everyday objects for my training machinery; large gates and strong fences for upper-body exercises, and skipping ropes instead of a walking machine. How on earth has the human race developed from being able to keep fit by using the world around them into having to visit a hall full of specialised machinery? Are we growing fearfull of the natural world, afraid to visit the empty spaces around us? Have we become so addicted to machines that we find we cannot do anything now that doesn't involve cleaming chrome and softly-polished aluminium?
Of course I'm using machines myself, a bicycle, a skipping rope, boots, gates. But I can see there's a difference between those four pieces of equipment and the rows of specialised machines in the gym. There are drawbacks, of course. You don't get headwinds in the gym. You don't have insects fly with unerring accuracy into your eyes, or into your mouth; I'm undecided which is worse. And there is no-one else to smell your sweat. But I'm learning to live with these drawbacks.
In six weeks I have therefore saved myself somewhere between 240 and 300 pounds, or between 60 and 120 after deducting the cost of the bike. I have managed to lose half a stone in those six weeks, that's just over a pound a week. I have rediscovered that part of me that won't give up when presented with difficulties.
I haven't lost any money alongside the weight loss. If I had been going to the gym each evening I would have been spending gym fees in return for the vanishing pounds. Put out the pounds, and then put out the pounds. But the bike is mine to keep, and as I have now recovered the cost of it, the further savings are also mine to keep.
I have bought one other piece of equipment to help me with my program of regeneration; it cost me 4.99, and is simple enough to be carried in a pocket and used anywhere there is enough space. A skipping rope, perfect for developing coordination, and generating a type of step aerobics without the need to find a flight of steps. Also, unlike the bike, which demands that all the senses are keenly alert to listen for cars and other cyclists coming up behind, I can wear headphones whilst skipping and hop to the beat.
I'm adding this piece about the skipping rope because a friend of mine is bemoaning the fact that she can't afford to go to the gym and get fit again. I could afford it, if I chose, but I prefer to use everyday objects for my training machinery; large gates and strong fences for upper-body exercises, and skipping ropes instead of a walking machine. How on earth has the human race developed from being able to keep fit by using the world around them into having to visit a hall full of specialised machinery? Are we growing fearfull of the natural world, afraid to visit the empty spaces around us? Have we become so addicted to machines that we find we cannot do anything now that doesn't involve cleaming chrome and softly-polished aluminium?
Of course I'm using machines myself, a bicycle, a skipping rope, boots, gates. But I can see there's a difference between those four pieces of equipment and the rows of specialised machines in the gym. There are drawbacks, of course. You don't get headwinds in the gym. You don't have insects fly with unerring accuracy into your eyes, or into your mouth; I'm undecided which is worse. And there is no-one else to smell your sweat. But I'm learning to live with these drawbacks.
posted by Sopwith-Camel | 9:16 pm
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