Old age is that time of life when all the chickens of senseless physiological foolishness we once indulged in come home to roost.
The two things I fear most in life are the loss of eyesight, and the inability to move briskly under my own steam around my world.
I work with some diligence to maintain the latter ability.
Greg Chappell in his book about ageing asked the question;
"Did you ever see your dad run?"
Many of us who grew up in the 1950's never saw our dads break into a canter let alone any heartfelt gallop. For me that is especially poignant because my dad was a gifted harrier (cross-country runner) when he was young.
One of the special memories I have of Globet and Gof's tour of Victoria last year is that we actually ran together on one occasion until we were both completely puffed out. (she was probably pretending) Admittedly it was prompted by being so bloody cold that if we had not run the distance then we may well have perished on the shores of Lake Jubilee.
Someone next day would then have discovered our ice statues and chipped away at them until our mortal remains were discovered.
It was however not the first time that the two of us have run together just for the fun of it, and I hope it was not the last.
Now moving on to a totally different subject.
Human movement can be an exquisitely beautiful thing.
Ice skating, and some performances on television dance programs have been known to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Then there are gymnasts trailing ribbons in "free expression" floor routines.
Cirque du Soleil acrobats.
Pole vaulters converting horizontal speed into vertical defiance of gravity.
The agility, power and athleticism of tennis players.
I however have one special human movement hero.
As a much younger man I would hopelessly try to mimic this West Indian cricketer with his lithe, loping, powerful, graceful accelerating runup before he hurled a cricket ball at 100 miles an hour at some terrified Australian batsman, or in the case of the picture below almost decapitating the captain of an English test team.
Oh, how I loved to watch Michael Holding, the human panther, at work.
I might ramble here but it's all your fault for writing such thought-provoking posts. So there.
Lovely writeup, all of it. I didn't know that word harrier (except in reference to the bird of prey). I read recently that running is the ultimate human exercise, since we evolved to run (eek, a lion! or for spear hunting our dinner).
I agree about the human form. I did gymnastics when I was little and it gave me much confidence once I learned to backflip off a balance beam. Especially the times I realized my spotter had stepped out of the way and I hadn't snapped my neck in half.
This time of year I get more exercise than ever. In the summer I can cherry-pick when I run at the lake, and how much of the run I wimp out and walk. But during winter I'm forced to go out any time it's possible and I run the entire way so, like you, I don't wind up one big popsicle stick.
Well, I don't know …. my father ran with me and then still had a massive stroke in his early '50s …. he was a heavy smoker though so not sure how much it actually took him to run through those paddocks! Each year when I visit my parents and am confronted with my future old age I vow to always be able to walk, do up my shoes laces and put a watch on my own wrist. Hopefully not owning a car helps me because I am forced to move under my own power.
Cross country skiing…. mmmm, now that is poetry of motion.
I used to run, but unfortunately I let myself get too fat for that right now. Working on that. I hope by this time next year I can tell you I'm able to run again.
Thanks Emmi. Well I didn't know harrier had anything to do with a bird of prey, so now we're even.
I admire anyone who does gymnastics. They tried to force me to do it in school but I simply refused. Something inside of me always said that my head should at all times be further away from the centre of the earth than my toes. To this day I have never dived into water or done cartwheels because of this little understanding I have with the universe.Good luck with your running….for the rest of your life.
Did you ever see your dad run? My Dad took up jogging, or shuffling might be a more accurate description, after he retired and he continued daily until his dementia meant he might not know his way around – then he paced the yard until the day he went into care, 3 months before his death. He wore out several pairs of joggers!
I am sorry your story has an unhappy ending FD, but I hope that your Dad did obtain some benefits from his "shuffling time". (very accurate description of what I do these days
Well, I don't know Again, I am sorry that your Dad had a stroke so early in life Emjay. So far the opinion is not highly in favour of running
I guess the point I didn't make, and perhaps the one Greg Chappell was alluding to, was that fathers of that generation often thought it was below their dignity to be seen running in an era when any sort of physical exercise in later life was not viewed as important.Your comment about running around the paddocks reminds me of Cliff Young (?) the old dairy farmer who used to practice in gum boots for running marathons.
Cross country skiing…. mmmm, now that is poetry of motion.Yep, that's one I forgot. Thanks for reminding me. Good luck with your fitness program. I think I have mistakenly created an impression that I am forever sprinting around the world. I ran once as described with Glob 9 months ago….apart from that, as FD described, I occasionally do some ugly "shuffling" around the farm or on my forest walks.
D'you know, now I think about it I've never seen my dad run, or not that I can remember. He's not a running sort of chap, it'd look a bit like a stork attempting a sprint. Albeit a stork that's currently sporting a bit of a beer belly as he's been unable to walk more than a few paces until his recent op to clear the blocked artery in his groin. A girl from school's father died while out training to do the London Marathon so I'd say steer clear of the running and stick to brisk walking instead!
Bleeding hell, that was a cold day.
And I just found out why you never let me go to gymnastics.
I actually ceased my regular running while in your part of the world. Got a nasty sprain while walking on perfectly flat concrete, right after running the trail at Mossman Gorge.
Well I am sure that the ugly shuffling keeps you in reasonable form anyhow.
I might ramble here but it's all your fault for writing such thought-provoking posts. So there.Love what E said there (and of course, what you said that provoked her comment)!Your posts are always thought-provoking and often truly lovely.That said, I'll bring it down to my level…Pa Kettle ran a lot when I was a kid. He was extremely powerful and athletic but those were things he liked to do, not that he had to do or that he thought was healthy or he'd never have done.
stick to brisk walking instead! Probably very good advice Vicola for most of us. Current medical advice seems to suggest half an hour a day is sufficient.Hope your Dad continues to do well after his operation.
Bleeding hell, that was a cold day. Maybe the weather will ensure I never forget that particular place for our fun time there and also for my criminal activity 45 years previously stealing 6 potatoes out of the farmers paddock
And I just found out why you never let me go to gymnastics. That was punishment for your ignoring GOF's Memorandum of Understanding with the Universe and becoming addicted to doing handstands at primary school.
Pa Kettle ran a lot when I was a kid.Thanks m-t for your nice comments. It is so important to do exercise because you enjoy it as Pa Kettle did. When I drive to town early in the morning I see so many people obviously suffering pain and discomfort but still forcing themselves to pound the pavement in pursuit of their good health dream.
Your comment about running around the paddocks reminds me of Cliff
Young (?) the old dairy farmer who used to practice in gum boots for
running marathons.Yes indeed; there is a wonderful story here: (sorry the chainlink thing never works with my laptop) http://www.my-inspirational-quotes.com/inspirational-stories/cliff-young/
Thanks Emjay I'll go check it out.
Wow, that was even more inspirational than I had hoped for. I never knew he gave all his winnings away to others who raced against him. Thanks so much for the link.
right after running the trail at Mossman GorgeAhhh…now who's dredging up nice memories. That is just one of my favourite walks. Plans now in place to close off the carpark, relocating it to the Community further down the road so everyone will probably have to pay a fee and be escorted by bus and on foot by community guides. Perhaps I have walked it for the last time.
Ah noooo, what idiots. Still, it really isn't that much of a walk down to there from the hospital, even. But… pay a fee? No way. Time to work out a little trail of ones own around the fee booth, GOF.
Seriously, what are they thinking? I know it's a big tourist spot, but to make people who live in the area pay for it is just a travesty.
Thanks Emjay. Cliff ran in my school fun run when I was ten, and I was just so honored to run with him. He was my hero. And yeah, he gave his trophy for participating to one of the kids. Lucky bastard.
Time to work out a little trail of ones own around the fee booth, GOF. Next time you visit this way, we'll both go out with jungle knives and hack our alternative trail around the pay station.
I agree with your thoughts….admittedly sometimes the little parking area was chokkers, but I think the politics of engineering a financial income for the Community is the driving force behind the decisions.
He was my hero.Fantastic story LOM…..So much I didn't know about Cliff Young.
The income for the community is good, but …. ogosh, it's like selling the gorge isn't it?
I'll be happy to bring my machete…. well, I guess I couldn't take one on a plane nowadays, so I'll have to borrow one from the Missus, alrighty?
Gosh, I love it when you say things like "chokkers". It makes me homesick, but in such a nice way.
ogosh, it's like selling the gorge isn't it? It is quite disgraceful. If I had to pick a single kilometre of road as being the most beautiful I have ever traveled in Australia it would be that section from the Community to the carpark. It's like something from a magical picturebook.As soon as Mrs GOF gets off the plane I will hand her a file to start sharpening your bush knife
Oh GOF, shame on you for treating your darling wife as so much chattel!
… at least let her mix a load or two of concrete first!
… at least let her mix a load or two of concrete first!OK…I'll let her know this is all your idea.I'll take the mixer down to the airport…..as they are spending many millions upgrading it at the moment I'm sure they will appreciate some extra help
oh, nice. Just blame me!
I'm conveniently on the other side of the world, and can neither defend myself to her, nor really get any of the fallout… so why the heck not?
However, I would question the wisdom of letting her know you are so obviously under the influence of a beautiful young lady.
(Now why did my Love wander past my computer as I typed that, and suddenly start choking? I really must go thump his back … hard.)
However, I would question the wisdom of letting her know you are so obviously under the influence of a beautiful young lady. Ahh…no problem….just one more name for her to add to the long list, Ali, Elle, Megan etc etc she understands I am just a magnet for the most beautiful women on earth
Whoa, and that's the most diplomatic thing I've heard all year!