arthritis
Physical and mental health
If you’ve been in or near a certain town south of Edinburgh in the early mornings in the last few weeks you might have seen an aging but very upright figure (pelvis tilted, feet rolling, arms pistoning) stomping valiantly through the driving snow, or briskly circuiting the parks and quiet housing estates and streets. Yep, that’ll be me!
For too long I’ve been spending ridiculously long hours glued to the desk; immobile in my concentration. But this year I’ve resolved to rectify matters and get my daily exercise in the form of a power walk, aided and abetted by the gift of this brand new pair of super-duper training shoes (thanks, Ros).
With creaking joints and a family history of arthritis I had to rule out running or jogging; power walking is kinder and less jarring. Head high, chin parallel to the ground, eyes focused 20′ ahead, stomach muscles and buttocks tight, arms swinging naturally, feet parallel and a shoulder-width apart … it’s a lot to concentrate on at first.
But already I’m impressed by the consequences – both physical and mental. Far from eating up valuable working time, the fresh air and circulatory boost is improving my efficiency all round. And I’ve solved several questions relating to the plot in my novel as I’ve tramped. When yours are the first footprints in the pristine snow there aren’t many interruptions and the mind is free to soar.
Initially visitors to my blog said they wanted me to share hints and tips about a writer’s life. Well, this week’s one is a confession: I’ve been far too lax about my physical health, deeming extra time at the computer churning out words of more importance. Wrong. Perhaps if I name and shame myself today it’ll be all the spur I need when the rain is coming down in torrents and the wind is screaming in from Siberia – which it was last week. (Boy, did I feel righteous when I got back!)
There are sure to be those who are cynical about the claim that I’m working as I pound the pavements. But what does it matter? I’m not answerable to anyone else. It’s one of the immeasurable delights of being a freelance writer. As long as the books keep coming, who cares where or when I do what I do?
NB. It’s only fair to report that, for the first time, this morning there was no snow or frost. Not a vestige. Indeed the sun was shining brightly. And yes, it was all well before 9am.