I have always been a bookish sort, and never good at getting my exercise.
At last, though, I think I have found a way to make it enjoyable. So much so that I have hopes I may at last actually stick with it.
And it’s so simple, really. It’s the iPod.
I just load it up with vintage folk, and off I go to the gym. The old treadmill, so obvious an image of futility that I could never before endure it, is suddenly no chore at all. I resist leaving until I’ve heard one more song.
I’m as happy as a hamster on his wheel.
What’s on my iPod these days? As I might have already mentioned, I’m an old folkie. Today, the iPod randomly selected some vintage Dylan, circa Blond on Blond; Stan Rogers; Ian and Sylvia. Johnny Cash—he is, to my mind, American Protestantism put to music. Peter, Paul and Mary—yes, I find them saccharine, but once you’ve gotten to know it, there’s no getting over Mary Travers’ voice. So rich and warm.
And Steeleye Span. If Mary Travers is rich and warm like burgundy, Maddy Prior is harsh and desperate like fresh poteen. Travers is a pleasant holiday before a crackling fire; Prior is truth.
Then the Dubliners sang “Drink Up, You Bastards,” and I figured it was time to go home.