Did a bit of Geocaching in the Arb yesterday afternoon. My Wife and I kidnapped Scott H and hit two caches. The first one (GCP2T3) was on an island in the Huron, and required a bit of a balance beam act to get to. Scott found that one, and we dropped off the travel bug from Saturday’s caching in da U.P.
The second cache (GC479) was off in the middle of the woods, about 40-50 feet away from the nearest trail. We circled it and spiraled in, trying to get a good reading on the location through the tree canopy. Eventually we found it, but only because of the clue from the geocaching site.
Hiking in and out of the woods highlighted how out of shape I’ve gotten. I didn’t turn purple and fall down clutching at my chest or anything like that, but I was certainly puffing and sweating. And today my knees are presenting their opinions on yesterdays efforts. They’re not happy knees. Not at all.
And they’re not going to be happy knees for quite some time, I’m afraid. I fully intend to continue to exercise them, even if this does provoke them. I’ll put up with their outbursts of acerbic wit and sarcasm. I can endure quite a lot of that sort of thing, especially when I know that my waistline can’t.
That’s actually my new theory of exercise. Sure, you can talk all you want about “Caloric Intake” or “Aerobic Metabolism” and that sort of mumbo-jumbo. I know the truth. Weight loss is caused by the heavy parts of your body not being able to put up with their whiny neighbors.
It’s simple. The arms whine about weightlifting, the legs bitch about biking and the feet complain about everything else. Eventually the waistline gets fed up with it all and heads off to find a nice quiet restauranteur or movie critic to hang around with.