One of the other main reasons I was motivated to flee the cul de sac was, as suggested in the last blog, sloth. It is not so much that I was or am lazy. In fact, I am not. But neither am I one of those who go zooming around all day and then go for a jog when I got home ‘to relax’. I worked in a chair, drove in a chair and watched TV from a couch. My day from age 35 to 55 was largely spent sitting. There is no denying it.

I was good at it.

I am also disinclined to discomfort. And I hate sweating. Yuck. So, purposefully driving to a gym and sweating for an allotted time just seemed stupid to me and so I didn’t do it. If I am going to sweat, then something useful and necessary must get done. Or, at the very least fondled and petted.

Porcine comes to mind.

This attitude is not conducive to good health. And, by 50, my health was telling me this in no uncertain terms. Again with the porcine….

But what to do?

Conventional, urban, more-sane plans had no appeal for a broader array of reasons than just fitness. And so logic suggested committing fully to a situation where physical work was not only a requirement but a necessity. Committing meant taking a long leap into the largely unknown physical-challenge world and having to deal with what came up.

OK, ‘insane’ might be a better word.

Anyway, part of this ‘plan’ was to remove the option of sloth otherwise it just might take over. Tough love, in a way.

You’ll understand that, by definition, it took awhile to get this plan off the couch…. unh, I mean ground.

Sidebar: I think the PBS series Frontier House pressed some kind of button for me. It definitely left a major impression and I saw it at the right (read: impressionable)time. I still marvel at that show.

Most people don’t need to do anything that extreme. Most people can simply get themselves to a gym and make a routine of it. But I also hate routines. Most people would stay physically active even if they didn’t go the gym route. They would fix things, build things, take up sports or lawncare and otherwise keep the metabolic rate up. Me? Not so much. It seemed making the perfect martini was my main hobby and I had the added benefit of the world’s most active and energetic partner in Sally. So I could often just let Sally do it.

I am not a bad person. Not really. I just tended to think more than I acted. I tended to live in my head, as they say. And I have been largely blessed by an adequate and strong (albeit ugly) body. If I had to do something, I could. I had nothing to prove.

Then I hit 50 and it all began to shift like my waistline. Time for some drastic action. “Hey, Sal, waddya say we throw ourselves into the forest and learn to build a house while we do it with too little money and no other options?”

“Can I have a dog?”