Last night I went to see the Grateful Dead. Despite the five hours I spent in my car yesterday, I managed to surpass my step goal for the day by hiking from my parking spot in roughly San Mateo County to the stadium at Levi’s and then dancing like a happy fool. There is a reason that one of the smells that makes up the composite “Deadhead” is sweat (and I like it better than the parts that are incense and spilled beer and dust). The crowd definitely dances like no one is watching. I got my exercise.
My step count is not the official marker of whether I have Done Enough, however. I can get my steps pretty easily on the days when I catch up on laundry, carrying baskets up and down the stairs. I don’t break a sweat.
We like to think that we have active lifestyles. Maybe we do. But maybe we are overestimating, just a little, how much we are doing. If we were so active strolling through the street festival and getting our 10,000 steps, why aren’t we sore the next day? Did we ever have to interrupt our conversation while doing the yard work because we had to focus on breathing for a minute?
I needed to do some work on my studio floor on Saturday. A bunch of the weights had to be moved, some sections of floor needed to come up and get replaced, and everything had to be returned to its rightful place on the new flooring and mats. I got in plenty of steps, but since I am still letting my hand/wrist/arm stuff heal, it was Brent who actually got the ambient workout shifting weight plates and dumbbells.
I am not trying to say that taking the stairs or schlepping the groceries doesn’t help contribute to our health and wellbeing, just that it doesn’t get us out of doing some crazy dancing or heavy lifting from time to time.