There were four nights and three days of moderate-to-heavy drinking and blissfully careless eating. It was unhealthy living—no twist. We climbed out the window each night onto my elevated patio, and climbed back in each morning to go to bed. A few times we walked to a corner store to buy more beer. Once or twice we walked to the subway. This was all of the physical activity that had been involved. And every time I did any of those things? I was totally exhausted by it.
And so, on Monday, after that weekend with three close pals from my high school days, a game of Frisbee golf [1] seemed to be just about my speed. I'd never played the game, but the rules were easy enough to grasp—somebody picks a target and each player attempts to hit that target with his disk in as few tosses as possible. Not mentally nor physically taxing, but engaging for both the body and mind.
With two of the old chums (the third was at work), I made my way to a toy store in Park Slope and then into Prospect Park, coming from the west. The first "hole" was simple... a tree atop a hill. Next, we picked a metallic dome shining in the sunlight, hardly visible through a thicket, but not too far. There was an incident involving a poor throw on my behalf, a trip into prickly bushes, and accidental and forceful removal of my glasses by a tree branch. This was maybe more than I'd bargained for.
Our next objective, though, was to hit a trash can a long way across a humongous patch of grass. Gradually we made our way over the field, following our Frisbees along the way. It felt good to be in motion—like waking up after a pleasant afternoon nap. Yes, this is what it feels like to move your legs. This is what it feels like to play. Outside, in the sun and grass and trees.
We were only walking. Walking and throwing, with long walks between throws. I never ran out of breath. I doubt I broke a sweat. But it was the perfect exercise that day. I brought my brain out of a nutty weekend, and I reminded my body what it meant to move. By the time the sun went down I was almost ready to go back to work the next morning.
Almost.
- Josh [1]
Brooklyn, NY