“Let’s watch a baseball game.”
“Let’s watch a movie.”
“Let’s watch ‘Dancing With the Stars.’”
We all watch too much and actively participate less. We need to get off of our butts and participate more. It takes exertion and so much practice, but we’ll be better people for it.
A few decades ago and prior ─ say, prior to 1930 and the evolution of film ─ I’m sure few people thought of backpedaling to a simpler lifestyle; most looked forward to “progress.” Life was hours devoted to subsistence with only brief moments of entertainment available to preserve one’s sanity. Gout was the “disease of kings.” I’m not sure today is any better. We have so much more time to “watch,” and less time required to “subsist,” but we’re also getting fatter, lazier, and today gout is a poor man’s affliction. Understand I’m no Brad Pitt, myself, and I too could probably drop 15 pounds without making my physician blink. A few of us still face a daily grind of hard physical labor, but even traditional heavy labor professions such as stevedore, miner, maid, farmer, and construction worker have been eased with modern technology. Almost all of us are rather sedentary today. We need to get out more.
Last week, on my way to my day job, I walked through a quiet vehicular traffic-limited canyon in my neighborhood and was amazed to see a number of joggers that early in the morning. They were participating; I was the watcher. It made me feel guilty, especially since my employer provides a locker room with showers. I used to ride my bicycle to and from work through that canyon. But then the weather turned cold, giving me an excuse to get lazy again.
When was the last time you participated in an aerobic activity, not because you felt guilty and “had to” like going to the gym, but simply because it was fun? The other night, we participated in a ballroom dance competition with 26 other couples, each couple performing a two to three-minute solo routine before an audience. The audience was “watching,” but we dancers were “participating.” I suspect our three minutes in a slow Foxtrot on that dance floor perhaps burned maybe 300 calories and a few ounces of sweat between the two of us, and then only because I was in white tie and tails while my partner wore a circle skirt that weighed a hefty five pounds. But the two hours of excitement in the dressing room backstage with the other dancers prior to our routine probably ignited a thousand more. And then you have to tally the calories in those countless hours we practiced for those three brief minutes.
In my very biased opinion, I estimate we placed third from the bottom in that competition. Latin dances are popular because they look sexy, and unless you’re Fred and Ginger, a Foxtrot can look rather sedentary. But a Foxtrot also looks easy ─ it’s not ─ so I’m hoping one or two in our audience told themselves, “Hey, I can do that,” and are beginning to think about participating instead of just watching. I don’t care if they dance; I just care that they don’t watch so much. “Do your own thing,” I remember hearing when I was growing up. Hmm! It’s April, time to start riding my bicycle to work again.
