For most of my adult life, I have avoided gyms. Never cared much about upper body building, would rather walk in nature. I prided myself on buying the clothing necessary to go out in any weather, and I was religious about getting outside on work lunch breaks.

But – well at 75 some indoor routines seem to work. The local Y is cheery, well lit, comfortable, nearby, convenient. Usable even in really bad weather. I can get there, through a short intense workout, and back in an hour or so.

Of course everyone says it is good to exercise. Our evolutionary origins demand it, studies prove it, just common sense.

Ah, but how much and what kind is enough? There, things become unglued, not only at the gym either. Walking a half hour or so can escalate into marathons. Weight workouts graduate toward tons. I see grim people, forcing more and more until they are stopped by body or mind. 

As in much of our culture, the evil is obsession. I use the gym but only to a point. I love to walk, but try to adjust to limits. I continue to believe that stretching and pushing towards the infinite perfect is ridiculous.

Sound mind in sound body. Period. Stop.

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