Thursday, August 09, 2007

Any Old Iron

Excess in exercise is a way to marry the protestant work ethic of a Midwesterner with the self-indulgence of a sybarite.
It is the ultimate in carnality, the mortification and the indulgence of the flesh in one, all released in one mighty rush of endorphins. Asceticism and hedonism are united.
An article in the FT of all places, nails the peculiar and painful allure of exercising every day especially when you're no spring chicken. "A man makes a beast of himself to get rid of the pain of being a man", as Johnson warned, and it seems it can apply to sweating just as well as boozing.

I should really be tapering off this week, and taking it easy at AbbeyFest on Friday night if I'm going to swim, cycle and run on Saturday, but there ain't much chance of that.

I'm on target to swim in less than nine minutes and to run at 12km/hr which will both be huge improvements on last time out. Rewarding as that should be, at least I'm not so far gone yet sincerely to think of it as carnal.

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