The opposite of slouchdom is hyperkineticism, and that\u2019s equally deleterious to one\u2019s sense of balance and flow.<\/p>\n
I lived in San Diego at the nascence of the triathlon boom in the mid-80s, and because I was on the periphery of that crowd, I saw the toll all that training took on relationships. One friend packed his 15 hours of weekly running\u00a0into a marriage. His wife, suspecting he loved the road\u00a0more than he loved her,\u00a0asked him to turn pro\u00a0or to light out.\u00a0He didn\u2019t have the talent for the former, so he did the latter.<\/p>\n
We now know that powerful drugs flood our brainpans when we propel ourselves over distance for an hour or more: beta-endorphins, nor-adrenaline and even anandamide, an endogenous form of the active ingredient of marijuana, THC \u2013 so exercise feels good and is honest to goodness addictive, because it activates powerful drugs within. Thus the often irrational behavior that ensues.<\/p>\n
Take the Type A Caucasian\u00a0male who late in his fifth decade\u00a0hops on a road bike and rediscovers his\u00a0athleticism, picks up some fitness and\u00a0begins\u00a0to take his cycling seriously. He acquires behavioral tics like fretting about body fat, picking at food like an ingenue and shaving his legs.\u00a0I\u2019ve seen these guys in Europe, hurling themselves at the Stelvio, the Mortirolo, the Giau, as proof of virility and non-deadness. I\u2019ve seen this fellow in, well, my own mirror!<\/p>\n
Yes, moving\u2019s far better than basting in one\u2019s own sloth, but the Buddha taught the middle path was the way to happiness, and this breed seems to find personal glory on the most arduous path\u00a0to Kingdom Come, which he\u2019s happily \u00a0sharing with age-group Ironman-distance triathletes, ultra runners, 48-hour obstacle course enthusiasts\u00a0and\u00a0hair shirt wearers.<\/p>\n
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