Exercise

Confession time: I have never been an avid exerciser. That said, I have always loved walking, particularly alone in the woods—not with any goal of speed or rigor but, rather, contemplatively. Ambling along I am mindful of wildflowers, small creatures, wind in the leaves, the tapping of branch on branch, woodland aromas, geese honking on a distant pond, small birds nearby calling to one another. However, these impressions are fleeting, as my mind invariably is churning and turning—ideas, plans, memories, imaginary conversations. Sometimes I look up and wonder where I am. Deep in thought scarcely covers it. I’m sure my walks don’t constitute much actual exercise, but I believe they are healthful.

Meditative mindfulness—call it walking meditation perhaps—takes me both outside myself and deeply within, contradictory as that sounds. I find such mindfulness in the woods. I also find it, albeit slightly less easily, meandering down city streets, admiring architecture and interesting shops, and of course people-watching. Or in gardens, modest or magnificent. And in art museums and galleries, especially there. Anywhere, really.

One side effect of Afinitor, which I am currently taking as a treatment for renal cancer, is swelling and soreness in the extremities. It can affect other areas, such as hands and face, but I feel it in my feet and ankles, particularly late in the day and more so if I have been standing or walking quite a bit. That condition is aggravated by a longstanding neuroma in my right foot. I have purchased and sometimes use a walking stick.

A bit of style, in my mind, goes a long way toward alleviating the feelings of age and infirmity that come with using a cane, even if such use is merely occasional. Mine is a Fritz style with a dark Ovangkol shaft (an African wood similar to rosewood) and an olivewood handle, joined by a gold and silver band. Using the walking stick helps take some pressure off my “bad” foot. I also have a folding cane to use when traveling. So, I’m still walking, a bit less and a little slower, but still putting one foot before the other.

Meanwhile, I’m also keeping up with yoga (see the earlier post) and walking the indoor track at the local YMCA some mornings. Now that spring has arrived, I’ve aired up my bicycle tires. A few years ago I stopped dodging traffic on city streets and now ride almost exclusively on a rail-to-trail path, which also has the benefit of being level. Still, it’s exercise—and quite enjoyable, all fresh air and sunshine. I might even suggest that it can be a form of rolling meditation.