Missing inaction.

This morning, as I do every fine day, I set off for my morning constitutional.

It has been revealed to me, since turning forty several (ahem) years ago, that if one does not make a concerted effort to propel oneself forward in a rapid fashion on a regular basis, certain parts of the female anatomy react most alarmingly to the law of gravity.  Indeed, some parts threaten to fall off altogether.

(My apologies to those who have just eaten, for that visual.)

I'm fortunate enough to have a large, evil-looking black-and-yellow treadmill down in my basement, where my beloved stationary bicycle, (now deceased), used to stand.

I'm even MORE fortunate to live a stone's throw away from a beautiful walking trail, that I can roar around on foot for about three kilometers every day.

Recent studies have shown that walking or running on a treadmill is very good for you, physically.  The same study has shown that walking or running while surrounded by the beauty of nature is not only good for you physically, but mentally, as well. 

I've really needed to walk, these past few weeks.  During the first lap around the pond, I concentrate strictly on the sounds around me:  the birds, the cicadas, my own foot-fall, and my own breath.  I empty my head:  no worries allowed, no "inner noise".

The second round is when some of the "better thinking" gets done.  Amazingly, once I make the effort to push the general annoyances and angst that has consumed most of the night before away from the forefront of my mind, I can actually begin to see reason.  I can begin to fashion greater solutions to problems, and plot positive actions and re-actions, with which to fill my day.




This morning, for instance, I was fuming--  FUMING!!!  --about some silly bit of nonsense I had read on the internet.  The immediate leap into a frustrated attitude so early in the morning, before I had even had my COFFEE, for crying out loud, catapulted me into a state of feeling fit-to-be-tied about a bunch of other things I've been worried about in my own life.

Things, that by round two of the pond, I was luckily able to see in a far less alarming light.

Round three, and I actually finished with a smile on my face, an appreciation for the beauty and tranquility of my surroundings, and a plan of action-- or, as it were, IN-action.

This morning, dear readers, I deleted my Facebook account.  I felt a bit naughty as I pressed the "yes, I'm sure" button, after entering all my security information...  and then, a blessed relief.

This summer, I simply don't NEED to know what everyone else is doing, thinking, or whining about.  I couldn't care less about movie stars, "what's trending", or "who I might know".  I'm abundantly aware of who's kids are cute, and I wouldn't dream of calling someone "friend" who didn't take the trouble to phone me or write me a note to tell me if something earth-shattering had happened to them.  I sold up the Farmville years ago, and all those points that Pieces of Flare kept throwing at me never added up to anything, anyway.

Yes, I'm missing "inaction", although I posted and commented so seldom, that I doubt any of my twenty-five-or-so-called "friends" will miss me at all.  I think my last contribution to the Facebook community had something to do with discovering an effective way to remove the smell of cat vomit from one's entrance hall.  Hey, I thought it was important at the time, and you KNOW how I feel about sharing knowledge...

Well, the Facebook community will just have to get by on their own.

Now.  If anyone needs me, I'll be on my blackberry.

(Everyone knows those damn things don't work, anyway.)