Later in Life Leeway

I’m often told by those who care about me that I should exercise more. Perhaps they’re right, but I wonder if they’d change their tune if they followed me around in a day. It’s true, I do not get out on hiking trails and work up a sweat. I don’t go to a gymnasium for workouts. Water aerobatics are not my thing, though they might be fun if I had my own backyard pool. A Jacuzzi tub would be more to my liking. And here’s another thing: How many times a day do I get up to answer the house phone only to find it is some marketer or surveyor or charitable organization volunteer? I keep saying I should get those calls blocked again but they do give me exercise both bodily and in delivering a polite response. No, the experts say, “ That's not enough. You should get out and walk rigorously for at least a half hour every day. Work up a sweat!”

Well, what if I don’t want to? What if I’d rather count all the times I bend over, reach up, walk back and forth inside my rooms, sit down, get up, answer the cell phone (after I’ve found it,) and take whatever exercise that comes along with keeping a house fairly neat. Emptying waste baskets, carrying out the trash and recyclables, getting the mail, walking the dog, dusting, vacuuming, and sweeping the patio may not be considered exercise regimen but to me they are. Not that I have anything against a walk around a lake with my daughter or a friend to enjoy the scenery, the weather and company, but to make it a daily must? Time, too, is a factor. It seems to me that at my stage of life I might do what pleases me most and not necessarily take time do what I don't want to do.

I remember when my Auntie Dorris advertised for a cleaning woman once an applicant showed up and before she got in the door announced, “Just one thing, I have a bad back and I don’t do any bending down or reaching up.” No need to say, she didn’t get past the doorstep, although Auntie expressed sympathy for her back.

There’s one way I get exercise that most people don’t get. I can’t sit for long without looking around the room and thinking of ways to arrange things better. My furnishings must think they’re on a merry-go-round. Often these changes involve little things like moving a lamp or a picture or a chair. But I can’t rest easy until it’s done. It’s almost an addiction with me. Even a picture hanging a bit crooked makes me jump up to straighten it. I don’t put off those things. My daughter, who is an artist, understands. She says, “Your home is your canvass, Mom. It’s the artist in you.” I add, “And as often as I get up to move something I think I could call it exercise, right?”

I’m really not complaining. No one gets after me to exercise more. I’m simply justifying myself whenever I hear someone on TV say, “...and be sure to get plenty of exercise.”

I forgot to mention that the walk out to my carport takes exactly 125 steps. Going and coming that’s 250 steps. Same thing for getting to the mailbox. Does that count too? And how about the steps I have to take in these Southern California shopping mall parking lots? Or the ones I take to find some odd item in the supermarket? 

Now that I’m resting my case, I want to say, More power to you exercise enthusiasts who get such a kick about how good it feels after you’ve exercised and  showered and got dressed. I know about that. I used to play tennis and golf and ride a bicycle. Many my age still do. More power to them too. Let’s just agree that when you get older you’re given a little more leeway to choose your exercising habits. Or, I think, you should be!