I've been reading about fitness and interval training as a way of anthropologically investigating how it is that other people live, the people are are fit. The people who might not only buy but also use hand weights. The people wearing Lutherville-Timonium 5K Turkey Trot t-shirts.
Channeling Margaret Meade, I decided to try out some of this "interval training" so I went to "the track" and tied up my "running shoes" and began "to run."
Well, as the scientists say, fuck that.
Not a quarter mile in, I wanted to just absolutely die, my hip bones were crawling up into my ear canals, my calves, and Achilles tendon, the molten core of the earth. I figure the reason why is that my body is not meant to run. I am not designed for it.
There is no shame in it, this is what Darwinism tells us: there are certain ecological niches, certain designs. My niche is smooth grassy slightly rolling surfaces - sometimes called lawns -- where I can loll -- I am designed for lolling -- in the the partial shade, eating whatever fruit is in season.