So I am the sort of person who likes to run upstairs and downstairs while carrying bags. It’s my favorite airport workout. Zoom past all the escalators. Zoom past all the people. Run to the gate. Never sit. Keep on moving. See here and here.
But now I can’t. I have a busted knee. I find out the precise flavour of busted on Monday when I meet with the knee surgeon. In the meantime, it’s all physio and all icing all of the time.
Also, no stairs. I do the stairs in my house slowly one at a time. I don’t carry things.
Definitely no running. Though I’ve been told to give pool running a try.
At work I use the elevators.
But the thing is it’s just one floor up to my office and I find myself needing to tell people why I’m taking the elevator. I’m sheepish about it. Part of that is my size. I want people to see me as the fit injured person not a fat, lazy person. For the first time in a long while I am wanting to lose weight (not just to get up hills faster and be kinder to my aging joints) because I see judgement in others’ faces.
However, the explanations about why I am taking the elevator sit uncomfortably with me. Does anyone owe strangers on an elevator an explanation? In case the answer to this rhetorical question isn’t clear, it’s NO. I even think it’s perfectly fine to be fat and to be lazy.
You can be skinny and lazy too. It’s up to you. No judgement here. See Healthism, fitness, and the politics of respectability.
Walking with my cane recently I was offered preboarding on a train. The cane serves as an explanation. Without it I’m wanting to tell people a story.
No more.
