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.
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