The only change that works: I hated all kinds of exercise – until he moved to a big city and walks for miles | Walking

I He never understood people who liked high -density exercise. Wine – yes. Movies – Obviously. Model Trains – What Swims Your Boat. But exercise? I don’t understand I cried to the reformist pilates machines and left the circuits to the toilet halfway. I went to the park to run and instead I reached out to the grass with a cornetto. I begged the disease and the death of a fictional animal once to renounce class cancellation fees. Exercise was not just for me.

And it’s not like I’m not trying. I tried swimming and barre, power yoga and boxing – I’m not talking about hell, inaccessible expensive. Near the apartment, when I pass by a certain glass-paced gym with a kind of snack in my hand, I felt pity for the people in it, the muscular prisoners cannot save themselves from the persecution of the treadmill band.

Unfortunately, this has always happened. I challenge innate athletics – psychologically weak and does not want to suffer for things I don’t want to do. For years, I told myself that I have not been a kind of person who entered the world of physical activity in the vapid world. Then I started walking everywhere.

At first, it was a necessity – I just moved to London, I was alone, I was alone, and I couldn’t really comprehend the concept of taking the bus in the direction. In the city of Omagh, Northern Ireland, going to a walk to go to a destination, and then Mucky was to spend 40 minutes through a forest, or to make faint tours of a lake. In London, I admired the floor that could be covered with only one or two hours from my front door: the Highgate Cemetery, Hampstead Heath and if I dreamed of spectral silence at the weekend, Moorgate, all bankers were emptied, all of them were reasonable distance. Even now, I wonder that I experience a sense of freedom and walking from one end of the city to another.

It was a revelation to discover that I could move my body as a kind of exhausting punishment from God. I still mourned all the years I spent to sit.

Nowadays, walking is equivalent to the exercise of storing vegetables for me for me: Suddenly I covered four miles without really noticing. In the evenings, walking home for 90 minutes from work is like making peace with the day, but it may not be good, bad or remarkable. On the weekends, I take into account the walking time while making plans and enjoy every mile, and I know that I have an excited person to see me waiting on the other side.

A few weeks ago, years later, I attended a yoga lesson again, believing that the end (when you lie on the ground like a starfish) was the only valuable part. Surprisingly, I did not have to take a break or scream about the instructor that the dog was not considered a rest. Actually, I enjoyed it and I went back next week and the next week. But walking back and home was still the best part.