The Destination Can Be Better Than The Journey

Tuesday Morning – Fox thoughts on exercise.

The GP looked over his specs at me and he said, “I prescribe for you – more exercise! … More exercise or you’ll die!”

Well, I can take a hint.

But he is a nice man, the Dr., he isn’t one of those rabid neo-exercise-tastless-lycra-gymjunkie-sweat nazis … he is a man of taste, a man of culture, a man who likes Dr Who – he understands the ageing body. “Walk … walk long … walk steadily” he said.

So I am walking morningly, longish and steadyish.

I even purchased a pair of walking shoes – a hard purchase for someone who despises exercise as much as I despise all forms of unnecessary exercise (except for mental intellectual exercise of course … and that and physical exercise so often seem to be mutually exclusive things, alas.)

So I walk … one walking shoe on each arthritic foot – one arthritic foot in front of the other.

It’s not all sweat. There are birds to watch … magpies to annoy … flowers to smell … small dogs to pat … large dogs to avoid.

And then, after the weary kilometres there is the destination … always the same destination.

The smells and sounds of a favourite cafe – the welcoming chairs, the clean tables, the luxurious brew.

Espresso in a double shot.

Ahhh.

Dr, your prescription isn’t all bad.

“Cold winds can never freeze, nor thunder sour The cup of cheer that beauty draws for me”. (William Henry Davis, not Fox)