I’ve been out with my backpack, trekking around in the rain.
And I mean serious, Sydney rain. I got really wet. It was awesome. The sweat was mixing with the rain and running down my face into my mouth. My hair was well wet. And the exercises on the cut grass, in between hills, got me nice and filthy.
At this point you may be thinking I’m a little nuts. This may be true. But I’d rather be out there in the real world any day, than bored to death, sweating it out in a gym.
Why, you may ask? The first hill is always a killer, this is true. And you spend many moments on that hill wondering what on earth you were thinking heading out into the night, when you could be at home, eating steak and watching The Big Bang Theory. But… you get up that first hill, and you are into it. Your heart rate is up, your muscles are warm, and you are out there.
That’s when it starts to feel good. You notice the feeling of the rain gently tapping your face. It’s cool and refreshing. Different smells drift past, hints of frangipani, eucalyptus, someone cooking curry.
And when you are finished walking, you stretch it out, looking up to the sky with the rain tumbling onto your face.
You know you have been on an adventure, because your legs are covered in mud, you are drinking of hot chocolate and eating fruit cake with your fellow questers, whilst digging Christmas beetles** out of your hair.
My kind of workout.
Now I’m in my comfy dry bed, feeling the warm Deep Heat glow spread across my glutes*. I’m feeling great. Not just because of the Deep Heat (as great as that is).
But because I feel fundamentally, and undeniably – alive.
*That’s fitness speak for butt cheeks
** If this had been lizards, this would be an entirely different kind of post.