The Empire strikes back...

There really is no limit to the ruthlessness of these Anglo Saxons. People have long villified the East for their barbaric modes of torture, but please, if we were indeed so cruel, then we'd have invented aerobic exercise. Apparently, unless a man indulges in exercise that results in copious amounts of sweat (blood, sweat & tears, some claim...), there is no point in exercise. It seems suffering frightens away more calories that one would imagine. Thusly, pilates, is just a pansy form of non-exercise along with yoga... which explains the severe lack of halfway doable men in any of these classes. But still, you can't ignore the benefits of the more benign forms of exercise - gentle stretches, strong inner core muscles, well being of mind and body...
But no. Sadly, it is not acceptable to leave things at that. Walking. The the most benevolent form of exercise. Reccomended for those with heart conditions. Admittedly, growing up in South Bombay isn't the best place to develop the walking habit, but I have stretched those legs since I moved to the land of heavy duty public transport utilisation, and well, must confess to a love of walking all over NYC (much to Mimi's untold horror). But, and this is a BIG but (no pun intended, so stop it!). Still, I cannot begin to comprehend the desire or belief that for it to be effective, one must consider a minimum distance of 15 miles (even better if the walking was to mutate into running).
I shudder when I think of my one and attempt and such pointless walking - a team building day in the South Downs, walking 17 miles. What is even more deeply incomprehensible, was why I hit the yes button when the email came around!! I had no answer for all those good Indians who, when informed of the event, asked in a voice tinged with confusion and concern about my mental wellbeing, 'Why?'. Damned if I know!!! All I can say, that it is cruel and unusual punishment, does nothing for team building (well, a little if you consider being dragged along towards the end!), and is utterly devoid of any thrill. No, I do NOT feel a sense of accomplishment. No, I do NOT feel pleased to have pushed myself beyond my limits. No, I do NOT need to prove anything to myself and no, I am NOT having fun! The only triumph I felt was when I overheard someone say the word 'taxi' and managed to escape with them after some 15 odd miles of excruciating camaraderie, painfully blistered feet and muscles protesting in agony. I could have smacked the encouraging faces of 'but you're doing so well - come on, just a little more, and you'll feel so proud you finished it'. Hah! I'll finish them. All those hideously healthy, uber fit Anglo Saxons. There is locomotion and then there’s transportation. A small matter of interpretation wholly ignored by a populace of phillistines. Walking 17 miles, is the latter, and therefore requires some mode of transportation invovling wheels! A matter of interpretation wholly ignored by this bloody island.
Well, think about this.... sooner or later, we're all going to DIE! And as long as I look good when I'm doing it...... I don't give a mailto:*£$@^£ if my lungs like to pretend they belong to a 67 year old smoker!