Activity Heals

05/09/2011

Too inactive. The body finally yelled at me last night saying that I need to get off the ass and do something active. Instead I slept, but this morning there were some major problems. Sickly feelings commenced: stuffed sinuses, post nasal mucus drainage, headache, low energy. The physique I worked hard to maintain melted away in a month of physical inactivity. The difference between required exercise, which I get 4 miles of every day to and from work, and thoughtful exercise, which I haven’t had in a month, is healing power.

I came home from work early to get some rest. I lay down to sleep while the sun was shining and got a couple hours of sleep. I woke up with a headache and more congestion. The body lacked pizzazz. Rest was not all that is needed to kill this virus. After some push-ups and some sit-ups I felt better instantly, but I need more. Running outside, the sun was incredibly bright and I couldn’t help but squint painfully while striding towards sunshine and the local pond. The thoughts are muddled. The head pounding and the body a hundred pounds heavier than usual. I wasn’t sure running was the right thing to do, but it was harder than I imagined and it can’t hurt to get exercise and sunshine vitamin D. I gave up running after 10 minutes and began to walk; the mind too reluctant to continue coping with exhaustion. I walked for a while and observed people running, biking, and walking their dogs. I thought to myself, how do they already know how to stay healthy and energetic? how could I forget to exercise physically? Well, by not exercising I forgot how. I had a routine down during the less stressful parts of my first-year of graduate school, but how could I have neglected such an important thing: keeping the body alive!

Memories from high school gym class came into mind as I forced myself to run again. This jog would end again in another 10 minutes from deliberate resting. At this point, allegies kicked in as I deeply inhaled the pollen-filled air through the nose and exhaled through the mouth.  I started to sneeze and by sneezing the sinus developed a less viscous form of mucous which I began to spit out regularly.  The drinking fountain called my attention when I remembered what a friend said about drinking lots of water when getting over illness. I drank until I felt full of water, which was “a lot of water”.  I am reminded of a text-based online computer game where the basics of regenerating hitpoints, or life strength, involve drinking water until completely full.

The allergies were good; the body’s immune system was turning on like an engine which hadn’t been started in a month. I sputtered out old and caked-on oil lining the cylinder walls of the vibration-circulated lymphatic system. The increased heat generated from running broke less the solidified material lining the vascular, hepatic, and nephritic systems. It was impossible to tell any differences between the body and an engine at this point. Things were better, but the fruits of labor would come half an hour later when resting; ticking away on my laptop like hot exhaust components cooling on an warm engine.

I can’t help but comment on the running dialogue of the mind, seeing as how ridiculously awesome it can be. Observation: A girl running with her dog. She approaches and I look down out of reverence as she passes.  Just before she passes I see her dog staring at me. The dog was says, “don’t look at my girlfriend.” This is common especially with men. The man is usually telling me through his expression that I shouldn’t be looking at “his” girl. In fact, almost every day I have this bizarre encounter.  I do have an intense gaze. I look at things superficially, which I don’t like, but I force myself to do out of respect for people’s comfort.  Instead, absorbing and analyzing things, peoples, and environments interests me. There is nothing wrong with checking out the opposite sex and I wish I was more comfortable about it. We should overstep boundaries but being alert and healthy while doing so is key. Help me out here.