I set out to
walk much more as I found exercising in the gym, while we were having such gorgeous
autumn weather, to be quite depressing. So in a quest to increase my Vitamin D
levels, get some fresh air, and thus avoid Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) I
made better friends with Mount Ainslie and Lady Gaga. Let me explain….
“I’m gonna marry the
night…I won’t give up on my life…I’m a warrior queen…”
When I first
started walking up the mountain (OK, it's a steep hill!) and back down again, I would walk slowly, head
down, sunglasses on, headphones and iPod in. I would plod. Gritted teeth. Heavy
breathing. The bush was a blur. I
stopped every now and then on the pretence of tying my shoe, but really to try
and breathe so my heart would stop pounding so hard. I stopped once or twice to
look at the glorious autumn hues of Canberra. Hands on hips, frowning in pain. I held my breath as I passed people on the
path so they wouldn’t hear me heaving. I grimaced at their cheery waves, hoping
it would pass for a smile.
In the
interests of tracking progress I started my trusty pedometer and clicked on
Gaga’s “Born this way” album. The first time up and down I clocked in at 1 hour
15 mins. Heaving myself up that hill, feeling only slightly more able to grin at
people on the way down. Not so shabby I thought, and I got to listen
to all of the album too. Red faced. Yes.
Sweating profusely despite the cooling weather? Definitely. Sweat is fat crying,
remember? I had resolve. I planned thrice weekly treks up the hill.
“Baby I was born this
way…”
By the
second week, I only stopped once and that was really to look at the view. It was freakingly awesomely gorgeously autumnal. The scribbly gums starkly white against that
big sky. Down near the War Memorial and beyond, the oranges and reds of the
ashes and oaks. Further on, the hazy dark green of the Brindabellas. Still
plodding but able to see a bit more. Admired people twice my age who practically galloped up that damn hill. Even waved
a few times. 58 minutes. Cracked the hour. Not bad, I thought.
“Black Jesus, Amen Fashion”
Week three
and I only got about half way through the album. “Jesus is the new black”. I’m doing ok. I am walking quicker and no
stopping. I embrace my scarlet hued face
(it goes with autumn) and I appreciate the sweat trickles cooling me down. I silently cheer people on as they trudge up
the hill as I jog (yes JOG!) back down – in the flatter bits - 48 mins all up and I got to the top before I hear
the end of “Scheisse” (I don’t speak German but I can if you like”.)
“… don’t feel insecure,
if your heart is pure”
Week four
and I feel myself fairly pelting up there. I can’t wait to get out of the car
and on the trail. This walk has become meditative (yes, one can be meditative listening
to Gaga) and it’s wonderful to have time to myself. And it’s exercise, and I
love it. I love the feeling of achievement and the feeling that I am fitter,
and lighter, than I was a few short weeks ago. I get to the top and I am having
a quick drink at the bubbler as the strains of “Hair” fade.
“… If I'm hot-shot Mom will cut my hair
at night…uh huh, uh huh, In the morning I’m short of my identity…”
Hooley-dooley,
I think to myself…I did a good job today, metaphorically patting myself on the
back. And then jogged all the way back down (except for the steps – one must be
a little more careful on the steps). 41 minutes. Up and back. For me that is a
massive achievement. I know that my fitter, (younger), more fleet footed friends can
do it much quicker than that. I’m not competing with them. I just wanted to
track some progress, see what a difference a bit of regularity makes. And make
a difference it does. |
| Paleo Gaga: "You're on the right track baby!" |
