There are those who do and those who don’t.
There are those who move and those who don’t.
I’m a doer. Sitting around watching telly bores me to death, I prefer to be doing something, anything.
I’m also a mover. I discovered this in a big way when I went to a pilates class for a few weeks to try and build up my core strength. I almost lost the will to live. Anyone with as much energy as me needs to be burning it off not moving slowly, gracefully and with intent. Give me a zumba class any day – bugger core strength, I wanna wiggle! I’d be crap at yoga for the same reason, you don’t generally see a lot of wiggling going on in yoga. I bit of wriggling, maybe but definitely not wiggling.
My Boofuls, while he is a doer and likes to get on with things is not really a mover. He’s been showing willing this last week or two and occasionally coming on Douggie the doggie’s evening walk with me but he doesn’t really enjoy it as I do. Unless, that is, we happen to find ourselves in a graveyard. He has the most bizarre interest in gravestones and stops to read almost every one of them, every now and then turning to me with a, “54 ( or whatever age the deceased happened to be) bloody hell! Fancy that!”
Last night, once the sun had cooled down a bit, I encouraged him out for a walk. Of course we have to precede our walk with a short trip in the car. He would have headed for the nearest cemetery but I managed to head him away with the lure of a nearby geocache hidden in a nice and shortish woodland walk. We found it fairly easily and completed the log as Douggie gamboled around our feet and then went for a swim up the stream. That wasn’t a problem until he decided to hold his breath and swim under a fence, like a commando, across the stream and found himself in a field full of sheep – and out of our reach. Note to self: Don’t take eye off dog for even a moment.
Of course he threw a complete deaf ‘un at us as we shouted, cajoled and threatened, the main aim of the exercise being to prevent him noticing the sheep a few yards behind him until he decided to come back to us. Luckily for us he was more interested in the water and after swimming up and down for a few minutes he came back grinning from ear to ear, not understanding why we both had stern faces, clipped his lead straight back on and walked him smartly away.
After that little incident we headed back to the car. “Is there another cache nearby?” Boofuls asked me. There was. 3.1 km away. Easy peasy just off the main road. We decided to go for it.
As we arrived within 50 metres of the designated point we realised there was nowhere to park nearby. Boofuls, already having done fulfilled his walking quota for the day decided to drive up the footpath which, in fairness was wide enough to take a car but still…
I jumped out of the car and began to search. Boofuls directed from the driver’s seat. There had been a lot of re-fencing going on and I feared it had been buried but eventually I found it. As I filled in the geocache log Boofuls drove further up the track to find a place to turn round. I set off walking to meet him at the top but he met me halfway down.”What’s up there?” I asked him to which he replied, “Nothing.”
“Nothing, there can’t be nothing. There has to be something. What’s there?”
“Nothing, I told you.”
“Well, I’m going for a look.”
I closed the car door and headed off up to the top of the track.
Nothing? Really? There was the most spectacular view and a metal gate, that for some reason had holes drilled in it, seemed to be singing as the gentle breeze blew through it. It was a beautiful sound.
Boofuls hadn’t noticed any of it. I suppose that’s the difference between someone who wants to be out experiencing and living a walk and someone who sees it as a pointless waste of time unless there is a goal to achieve, hence the geocaching.
Each to their own, I suppose.