Getting Out There

Getting Out there

            I joke about finding little yellow envelopes containing book ideas, lying on the sidewalk when I take my morning walk. But, in my experience at least, exercise is a critical factor of being a writer. The brain needs oxygen. After four hours at the computer, there’s not a lot of oxygen in my study.

            In childhood and high school I was a slug. I didn’t like to go outside because I felt so unsafe around people (school was a nightmare). “Exercise” meant “P.E. in school” which meant “teasing and bullying.” None for me, thanks. Then at around age 14 I acquired a couple of friends, and when we heard that the local fencing club was offering lessons at its meetings in the high school gym, we three thought, Hey, that sounds like fun! It was already in the back of my mind that if I was going to become a writer (my goal since the age of five) I’d probably better know what it was like to handle a sword, and ride a horse, and adventure-y stuff like that.

            I was a TERRIBLE fencer. All aggression, no technique, fat and clumsy, and the masks didn’t fit well over my glasses. Still, I learned the joy of combat sports, and learned more importantly that “activity” didn’t automatically involve a gaggle of cheerleaders laughing at me. I learned that there are single sports rather than the team-sports emphasized in high school PE (for financial reasons, I’m sure). Later on my friends and I took up horseback riding once a week – God knows how much money we spent at the stables up in Marshall Canyon. And when I was in grad school, I discovered the wonders of shotokan karate and all that went with that. (Drinking beer, breaking fingers, sweaty gis, pool-parties at Sensei’s house).

            So actually, though I still think of myself as a slug, I haven’t really been one since the Johnson administration.

            Currently I have neither the time nor the money to practice an organized sport. After I left karate (and lost weight) I danced – first ballet (until I screwed up my feet), then bellydance (until I started teaching; when I needed every quarter-hour of my time to keep up with writing). At the moment I take daily walks, since I have the good fortune to live in a neighborhood where that’s safe and possible. (I get really tired of hearing social theorists lament the fact that Americans don’t walk nearly as much as they should, when I recall neighborhoods where I’ve lived where it simply wasn’t safe to do so). I’ll usually walk for 30 minutes, or do 20 and then 20 on an elliptical trainer I bought used on Craig’s List for $125. Frequently I’ll do a 20 or 30 minute home-video workout later on in the day. Occasionally I’ll hike with a friend. I would REALLY like to get back into martial arts – aikido, now that I’m an aged gink – but martial arts is expensive. I do not swim.

            But it’s got to be something. I sleep better at night, and I’m a great believer in sleep as a component of writing (I’ll talk about that another time). Sometimes people will ask me, “What do you do when you’re stuck in writing?”

            And I’ll usually reply, “Take a walk.”

            And look for little yellow envelopes on the sidewalk.