Stepping out for health

By Peter Matthews

Since the new year there has been talk in our house about exercise: Specifically how we should be getting more of it.

I read an article this week about how our muscular system is an endocrine organ. As such, our muscles release a host of different chemicals into the bloodstream, the effects of which are many and varied.

When we exercise the chemicals released are generally beneficial, even to the extent that research is now showing regular exercise can reduce the risk of cancer and other such undesirable health issues.

Given the incomprehensible (so far) complexity of the human body and the chemical soup which flows through it, it’s not so much surprising that it sometimes goes wrong but downright amazing that it works at all.

Anyway, I woke up early on Saturday morning and decided to go for a brisk walk. I got up, put on a pair of trainers and left the house.

As I strode away with great resolve my conscience delivered a double banger: Firstly, the dogs hadn’t noticed that I’d left and were sure to be less than impressed when they realised I had gone ‘walkies’ without them. Moreover, and this was the clincher, the talk about our pending exercise regime had been between myself and my wife - and she was still fast asleep in bed. How was that going to go?

So I went back to the house, (and this has to be handled carefully) gently woke her up, and suggested a walk.

Receiving an unexpectedly enthusiastic response I said something like “Well come on then, let’s go.” Not so fast.

She said “We’ll have to have a cup of tea first.”

“Of course - I’ll make it.”

Then “have you seen my trainers?” No, I hadn’t - turns out they were in the wardrobe.

And “do you know where my sunglasses are?” No I didn’t - they were in the car. And the last straw “do you want some sun block?”

No, I didn’t want any sunblock. It was barely past the crack of dawn; even the New Zealand sun, famed for its cancer causing ferocity would be hard pressed to singe either of us in the time it would take to walk to the end of the road and back at half past six in the morning.

By the time we finally left I would have been back already.

My father, no longer with us, used to tell my step-mother he wanted to leave the house at 10 if he was to have any chance of being on the road by 11. It’s just one of those things.

We did have a very pleasant walk, and two more and a bike ride during the weekend. This exercise thing is going rather well. I expect we’ll be swimming next week.

Regarding the departure of the wicked witch (prime minister) and the almost unanimous glee that it seems to be causing, I would just say – I was always taught to play the ball and not the player.