Dearest Rachel –
I’ve told you before about the running app that keeps track of my exercise regimen on a weekly basis, and how it’s meant to motivate me to keep up with the effort I’ve put in during previous weeks. It also doesn’t hurt that – as with any other social network – there are people I follow and who follow me to give each other encouragement along the way as each task is performed, and each exercise session is recorded.
But this coming week is going to be a little different, since there will be days when I’m driving, others when I may well be incommunicado for most of the day (again, I’ve no idea what connectivity-related amenities, if any, have been added to the cottage; after all, the whole point of the place, in my eyes, was that the world couldn’t reach me), and for the majority of the week, there won’t be much obvious opportunity to perform my typical exercises. Oh, I suspect Erin will try to either run or bike (or both!) around the place, and I might take a go at it myself (if nothing else, I suppose it’s a matter of curiosity to find out what the distance is between the cottage and the general store, which even Daniel and I will trek for the sake of their wi-fi connection), but it’s not like real distance can be covered in a place that only extends three miles from north to south.
So clearly, I’m not gong to be able to compete with what I was able to do last week. So how am I going to be able to keep up, and keep track of what I’m doing, to make sure that I stay in line with what I’ve been able to accomplish thus far?
Somehow, I suspect that’s not really a question you’re asking of me, since you could probably guess from the title of this letter. There’s a certain sense at which it just isn’t worth making the effort to try to keep up, since there will be several days when I can’t do much of anything (compared to being here, where, apart from weekends spent in the booth, I could put in my time on a daily basis and record it). If I know I’m going to fall behind, and fall behind dramatically, why put in the work to even stay close, when it’s a literal exercise in futility?
Besides, it could be argued that the trip to the island was always meant as a vacation, after all. Sure, there was the frenzy of packing everything that was needed for the week (which varied widely between your folks – the avid fishermen – and myself – the technophile homebody – with you being the bridge between us who packed more than a little bit of everything in between, plus plenty of games and cooking supplies), plus the work of doing what was needed to bring the fish from the stringer on the boat to the table, but the point was to be a respite from the stresses of the workaday world – albeit by subjecting ourselves to a collection of different stressors at times. So there’s precedent for slacking off on working out.
On top of all this, for all the lack of organized activity and more-than-occasional restaurant food (although that slows to a virtual crawl by the time we’re actually on the island), it’s not like we’re going to be pigging out on delicacies. I may be bringing a pantry’s worth of options, but it’s not at the same level as it used to be. The fact that we actually have to prepare this or that dish will probably limit the amount of stuff that gets to the table and consumed. Long story short, this isn’t going to be the weight gain that such vacations as cruises are legendarily made of.
So what of it if I decide to slack off on my exercise regimen? I think I’ll be okay for the short amount of time we’re there (and it is going to be a short time – not even a full six days spent there – which is slightly less than our usual sojourns back in the day), and between the fresh air and the limited menu, it should offset the worst of effects of my relative indolence, I suspect. Besides, imagine the gains I’ll make against these weeks once I finally get back and get back to my current routine!
Still, if you’d care to keep an eye on me, to keep me honest about this continued process, and wish me luck toward that end, I certainly wouldn’t mind. I’m sure that I’ll still need it.
Letters to Rachel 