Exercise... the poor person's Plastic Surgery

In the last few months we heard news of at least two people, we know quite well, who have had surgery related to coronary issues. Both of them were gym regulars and very much into health and fitness, though in completely different age groups. This re-opened the perennial debate that I have with my wife, who will use these as examples of why exercising to her is no guarantee of good health. In her experience, most of the fitness obsessed people that she has come across are the more whiny ones - always complaining of aches and pains, constantly groaning and wingeing or raising some issue or the other (myself included). If it is not soreness, it is stomach bloating, and if not that, a general lack of energy. She also believes that such people are more prone to illnesses and other related issues. I guess she subscribes to Henry Ford’s view that – “Exercise is bunk. If you are healthy you do not need it: if you are sick you should not take it.”

 

I on the other hand just cannot wean myself away from my masochistic work outs, even though the regularity of my sessions has diminished considerably due to time and other pressures. My idea of a nice session is dripping with sweat from head to toe, puffing and panting, and feeling a nice soreness emanating into my muscles. If my heart is not pounding at its absolute maximum, and my breath coming out in gasps I feel as if I have just been fooling around. I see people who meander in to the gym, and 45 minutes later stroll out with not a drop of sweat or strain to show for it, and to me that is an utter waste of time. Indians (excuse the generalization here) in particular hate to push themselves physically. I have been a member of an Indian Sports Club now for years. The gymnasium there is as good as any I have ever been to, the machines, the space to move around etc. are all excellent, just as the entire club facilities are actually superb. But apart from a couple of 40-something enthusiasts, the remaining regulars barely break a sweat. I guess something IS better than nothing, but what leaves me perplexed is why not give it all you have got?

Why do most people not workout, even though they know it is good for them?

I guess they need some motivation....

Why do smokers continue to persist in smoking, knowing fully well it is bad for them? Fundamental questions with really no easy answers! We all have this amazing gift to build mental models (beliefs) which suit our situation and preferences, and leave all dissenting information aside. It is called selective perception, and is a common human trait. I have this tendency to put all sorts of junk into my mouth, knowing fully well that it is bad for me. I guess I justify the same by saying that I will work it out the next day!

People, who know me, know that exercising is very close to my heart. I have been a gym-rat now for over 20 years, interspersed with other sports like squash and running in between. Physical wear and tear and niggling injuries have forced me, over these years to stop some of these activities, as well as tone down the intensity of my routines. Many times over these years I have asked myself as to why I do what I do, and I have failed to find an adequate response. I could understand this dedication if my overall fitness (by whatever standard) was improving steadily, or that I was into competitive sports, or even if I felt great at the end of it all. But on the contrary, I am almost always either stiff or sore, recovering from some injury or complaining about some ligament stress. I cannot remember a decent period of pain-free time in the last 10 years or so.

I seem to have given myself a Hobson's choice of either this type of painful existence or to stop training altogether. Problem is that after periods of prolonged breaks from working out, my stress levels manifest in horrible ways. Headaches, irritability and impatience become the alternative. As these symptoms become noticeable, my loving wife changes her mind and starts realizing the benefits of my working out to her.

 

“Exercise is done against one’s wishes and maintained only because the alternative is worse” – George Sheehan

Hong Kong - March 2011

This blog is to retain our memories of the above trip and may not be interesting reading. 

We landed in HK at 09.00 pm and were out of immigration and customs in a flash. Hardly had any wait for the taxi and got to know first hand the pace at which the Chinese worked, talked, ate and played. While our two bags were being stowed into the taxi we, as normal Indians who need to oversee everything, were waiting on the roadside to supervise the driver. The ushers who directed passengers in to the cabs, got annoyed and started hurrying us into the cab, saying that the taxi drivers are professionals at stowing luggage and that we were holding up the queue by just standing around.

Driving into Hong Kong City from the Airport made us realise that though we have seen Dubai grow over the years and many of the articles in my blog have been about its transformation, the development here was simply phenomenal. Hong Kong completely surprised us with its pace of progress. Coming out of the Airport, we all felt like yokels from the countryside coming into the big city. The road network, the buildings, the Metro, the buzz, the people and the cleanliness was amazing. I am sure there are a lot of dirty streets and alleys hidden behind the bigger streets, but for us what was amazing was despite the sheer crush of people, the number of eating outlets and food being cooked on the roads, there were no stray cats and dogs, no rats and no crows.

The check-in to our Hotel (Langham Place) in Mongkok was smooth and professional. We arrived at the hotel at 10.00 pm, and by 10.15 we were admiring the excellent service and the rooms with breathtaking Harbour views from the 33rd floor. 

Day 1

Next day we went browsing in Kowloon, along Nathan road, and then into Harbour City mall. It was a rainy and foggy day, and since we were not prepared for it we had to buy a couple of umbrellas. We were told at the Hotel to bargain at the roadside shops, so we visited a few shops to get a feel of the prices of the umbrellas. Since they seemed to have a streetside cartel and the prices being exactly the same all over, I thought I would try bargaining at the next establishment. I asked the price of an umbrella and the old chinese lady (they were always old chinese ladies at roadside shops) said $ 20.00. Nodding I asked her what the price would be if I bought two, and before I could finish the question back came the answer - $ 40.00 - in the typical straight faced chinese english, as if I was a fool who could not calculate. I loved her dry sense of humour so much, or at least made that excuse, that I bought the two unbrellas.

Went on the Star Ferry to HK island, and then back to walk along Nathan road. In the evening we walked along the Night Market and Electronic Market streets. I had planned to purchase a Digital Camera, and very foolishly bought it from the very first shop I entered. I was just too intimidated to say that I would look around. For dinner that night we had to buy food and take it to the Hotel room, as there was no place to sit anywhere. It seemed to us that no one in HK ate at home. 

Day 2

Second day we took a trip to Lantau Island to see the largest sitting Buddha in the world. It was a much more foggier day than the day before, and we could not see much on our way to the statue. We took a glass bottomed cable car, to get a better view, but even then it was murky. We had an Australian couple for company in the cable car going up. Very friendly and chatty, and the lady was much more so, due to her being afraid of heights. The day was a lovely family outing though we would have enjoyed the scenery more if it had been sunny. 

Day 3

The third day was Disneyland via Sunny Bay station. Had been warned that this was the smallest one in the world. The park did not have an abundance of thrilling rides for adults, with the Space Mountain being closest to acceptable, but Lea enjoyed every minute of it. The ambience and set up was superb. The weather was sunny and warm, and we all wished that it would have been the other way around with our trip of the precious day.

Day 4

Ocean Park the next day was great. The whole family enjoyed. It was much bigger, and when we reached in the morning, the park was not crowded at all. We finished all our rides by the time the weather became inclement. Had our first experience riding a roller-coaster in the rain. By the time the weather cleared, the crowd had increased. Anyway the rides had very short waiting times, and in fact quite a few had no wait at all. The longest wait was for the cable car going to the Summit and back. The park was full of senior citizen groups and hence the milder rides were busier.

Day 5

The last day, in true family style we lazed. Had breakfast a bit later, went back to the room and then decided to wander around the city. We checked out in the afternoon, and having half the day to spend, went off to Harbour City Mall again. That was a mistake - having gone there on Day1, we should have realised that with only high end designer outlets, there was really nothing for us to browse or shop. Took the metro back to the hotel, collected our bags from the concierge and then left for the airport at 08.30 pm. Had fast food for dinner at the airport, and then tried (unsuccessfully) to sleep all the way home.

Concluding impressions

Hotel was absolutely superb, service was probably the best I have experienced. The Club L lounge (Relax, Refresh and Recharge) was fantastic with refreshments being offered 24 hours of the day.  The massage chairs were the perfect treat after a long and tiring day out.  The Hotel located in the heart of Mongkok, and being connected to one of the better malls as well as the Metro system was extremely convenient to move around.

Food was world class and absolute value for money almost everywhere we went. That is if one could get a chance to sit and eat. Restaurants were full almost everywhere we went, at all times of the day. 

The Parks (Disney and Ocean Park) were nothing to shout home about, but still fun. As tourists we had the luxury of visiting them on working days of the week, which meant that we had to cope with less crowds. And best of all, was the fact that Lea had reached a height, where she was admitted to most of them. 

The people themselves (outside of our hotel staff) were less than friendly and to be honest quite pushy. We encountered numerous occasions when we were jostled out of line, or just pushed out of the way. That being said, in my opinion it was the elderly generation who behaved boorishly, whereas the younger and educated Chinese, seemed more genteel. There is hope for us all!   

The development in the city was staggering, with huge high rises and people everywhere, but still clean and functioning. It looked like a city of the 21st Century. The Chinese seem to be always in a hurry, when they talk and walk, when they serve and they sell. It seems that they have all entered into a race with time, and to be honest, to me they looked as if they were winning.

Letters from the Edge

I have had a recent spurt in writing blogs, and that has made me wonder as to why I bother. I started this as a way to jot down some thoughts, and at times to vent off some frustration that I could not (or would not) voice. But over the interregnum, the blog started to become a diary of sort, of events that have impacted my life in some way or the other. Or in the alternative the piece would be about some observations or emotions that were best left to be transcribed into words, rather than said.

Then the other day, the simplicity and beauty of this medium suddenly struck me. In the years gone by, one would have needed to have been an author or writer of some renown to have his words printed and published. Today a person like me does it himself on the internet, and there is a good chance that someone surfing the net, accidentally hits your site and proceeds to read your article. It can even be that if he / she like what they read, they start following you, and before you know it, the site becomes viral.

On the other hand there is also the possibility that my children or my great-great-great grand-children, read these in the years to come, and get to know me as well as if, they have been having a conversation with me. It could be a voice of their ancestor, reaching out from the great beyond, and giving them glimpses of the world he lived in, the issues of the times and the challenges that he faced. Even though history will record the major events of our times, my children will get a common man's take on the everyday issues that consumed his world.

Coming back to me, reading my blogs a few decades from now will bring me back to the present day, in a much more detailed sense than any photograph can ever do. I have often gazed at an old photograph, be it of myself or people I have known, taken a few decades ago, and have wondered at the reason for the smile or the expression. What was going through the mind, what were the events, in their lives or around them, that were shaping their destiny? A blog reveals so much more of the thought patterns and emotions.

Of course, a lot of what I write will be so dated, that in a hundred years’ time if my descendants were to chance upon these words, they might scratch their collective heads and wonder at the simplicity of life in these years. All the trials and tribulations, all the successes and victories will be as far removed from them, as WW1 is to us. The current politics and world order will have disappeared to be replaced by others that we cannot even begin to conceive. However, my words will continue to reverberate (albeit faintly) across the cyber sphere, in the years to come. My thoughts and my words will achieve some sort of immortality, and as long as someone deigns to read my ramblings, I will continue to be alive.

How great is that?

A Roll of Dice

After a gap of many years, I started going to the beach on weekends and I must say that I did not realise how much I missed being out in the sun. Beachcombing has always been my first love and I cannot think as to why I have let motor-biking come between us. The beautiful beaches and clear blue water have always enticed me even in the height of summer. Treading water in the warm Gulf waters, as small fish swam around my legs, or just floating face up looking at the clouds, used to ease all my stresses. I always felt that the ocean was a great equaliser. With the many people walking, playing, lying down or swimming, the sea passed no judgment on who or what you were. The sun, the sea and nature does not distinguish in terms of nationality, position, wealth or religion. Mother Nature is truly neutral, both in her bounty and her wrath.

Last Friday morning as I was walking along one of the public beaches, gazing at the people both in and out of the water and just enjoying the warm sunshine, I noticed a group of sub-continental labourers. There were about a half dozen of them, dressed in shirts, pants and slippers, right at one edge near the boundaries of that stretch of beach. Just from their body language I could make out that they felt out of place, and were probably wondering how long it would be before they would be asked to leave. It is not uncommon on Dubai's public beaches to see idle labourers gawking at women, and they are notorious for being extremely single-male unfriendly. Lifeguards routinely turn away such "elements", to safeguard the women and families that come there. In any other part of the world that would lead to a massive confrontation, but here this practice is accepted and probably taken for granted.

Anyway, looking at these poor workers, I started thinking about how unfairly life plays its dice. These men were probably just out (on their only day off in the week) to enjoy the sea and the sand. Like everyone else they probably wanted to feel the sun on their face and to step into the cool waters. Instead of being confined to their camps all day, or being dropped off at a market where they would have to spend money, they preferred to enjoy the Beach. What would be going through their minds when they see all the other people enjoying and frolicking, seemingly with no care in the world? Would they compare their own situation, and if they did, how would the contrast be internalised? Would they question fate for their situation, or would they accept it as their lot in life? Would they consider themselves spiritually cleansed for the hardships they endure, or would they rail at their own destiny? These men were probably from small villages, torn away from their families, to earn a living in a foreign land. Living from pay-day to pay-day and getting deeper in debt. Their lack of education, and their upbringing leave them with an extremely low probability of improving their status. Hard work, perseverance and good ethics will not take them anywhere, and their tomorrows will be just a sequence of repeated todays.

I thought back to the start of my life in this Country, and the way I felt in the first years here. Of having nothing, and not earning nearly enough! The way I used to look at kids brought up here in the lap of luxury, driving fancy cars, and about the times I had to make do with a Shawarma (Arabic sandwich) for dinner, while they probably blew up more than I earned in a month on a single night of revelry. The thoughts in my head during the times when I was sitting in a smelly share-a-cab, or pounding the hot pavements of Dubai, to get from one place to another, as I gazed wonderstruck at these same kids driving by in their fancy cars. But even at that time, I never felt hopelessness, never thought that I would be this way for the rest of my life. I knew that it was just a matter of time before I got what I deserved, and all that I had lost were a few years compared to these kids. I had an education and that provided me with options, and having those gave me courage, which is so much more than what these poor men have. There is no respite for them, no hope of a better tomorrow and in all probability they faced an unending succession of years spent away from homes, toiling ceaselessly until their bodies are spent and their spirit is broken.

I imagined one of them, who probably came from the small village near the ocean, and how the sea would remind him of back home. Maybe he felt that if he closed his eyes and stretched his arms out to sea, he would touch his loved ones across the water. Maybe the smell and the sound of the surf, reminded him of days back home, growing up next to the sea, of languid days spent stretched out in the sand as the sound of the wind through the palms and the constant roar of the crashing surf lulled you into sleep. I imagined him mentally drifting away to loved ones, the sense of peace and comfort that he would feel, till he was rudely interrupted by a lifeguard or a policeman, driving him off the beach and away, back to the wasteland of his current existence.

As I turned away from them, to head back to where I had left my stuff, I counted my blessings and thought about how fortunate most of us are, that when fate threw the dice for our lives, they turned up sixes.