We had two brilliant discussions about movement this month, one on Zoom and one in person, where we incorporated a walk-and-talking section, as well as a ride-and-talking for some happy passengers! Thanks to Sheila of the trishaw ride service from Chorlton Bike Deliveries.
These chats led me to reflect on how motivation, or lack of, is such a big factor in getting us to be more or less active and how our inner dialogue can contribute so much to that balance. Many of us noticed how much our old PE teachers have had a huge impact on whether we identify as sporty people, and whether we enjoy exercise, or whether we come to associate that word with dread and resentment!
I suggested that, in a tongue-in-cheek, non-sinister way, we imaginatively create an effigy of all these less encouraging PE teachers (along with all their possibly well-intentioned but often damaging behaviours and sayings) and burn it, letting go of the past and those messages, thus leaving space for us to build a cheerleader instead. I asked the group what they would have that character say, that would be of greater support and help in getting them and keeping them moving and this was the result.
‘’You can do it!’’
“Do what feels good.”
“You’re doing your body so much good, you’re doing your breathing good.”
“This is your time. Have fun and enjoy it.”
“Just keep being active however you can for as long as you can.”
“Mentally, you are going to feel much better. You will be calmer and go away feeling good.”
“You’re still here, you’re still moving!”
“Look at where you want to go, not where you are.”
“There is something inside so strong.”
Jean Thompson
What a great session this was with such varied ideas of what movement meant to us.
When I was at Primary School many years ago, we had a weekly programme called Music and Movement. Happy days before the strictures of the National Curriculum, targets and such like. Once a week we would go into the hall and the caretaker would wheel in the large and heavy radio on its trolley so our teacher could tune into to the programme.
A very avuncular-sounding presenter would introduce each piece of music and we were encouraged to dance around the hall in whatever way he thought was appropriate to the music. So, trees swaying in the wind for lively pieces, fairies delicately dancing round for the quieter pieces (I don’t think the boys at that time were too keen on that), stomping about heavily for dramatic pieces. It was such good fun, joyful. The words music and movement seem to go together so easily.
At secondary school, it was a very different story. Sports and gymnastics were enforced in a very regimental way. Dressed only in a very short skirt and a tee shirt all through the winter, even with snow on the ground, while the PE teacher stood wrapped up in layers of clothes, exhorting us to “run about girls to keep warm”, you found your own way to survive. My own particular way to survive the dreaded and violent lacrosse sessions, (those lacrosse balls were heavy and potentially lethal), was to opt to go in goal so I could be well padded up and not worry about how many goals I let in.
As a teenager of course it was back to the joys of dancing. How great was the freedom of 60s dancing, more or less moving as you wanted. That music and movement again, so natural. So, what now? Frustration that the body is not as it was, but also a thankfulness to still be able to enjoy walking which is definitely my movement of choice now. No specialist equipment needed (apart from sensible shoes and maybe a stick) or even a partner, to be able to enjoy that particular freedom whenever you want.
Oh and apologies to all modern Sports Teachers who I am sure are much more humane and imaginative.
Joe Sykes
I started ju-jitsu because Oliver did it, and Oliver was in my class, and Oliver was cool: his mum was an artist – their bohemian house open plan before it was a thing, with a studio on something called a mezzanine – and his brother had been to university and made films. But Oliver had already been going some time and was already a red or a yellow belt, so on my first evening there, I was put with fellow white belts, all yet to earn our stripes. The class was in the leisure centre, on a square of sweaty blue mats, led by two Senseis – let’s call them Phil and Maxine, ‘just in case’ – who (everybody knew) were having an affair, but who you wouldn’t mess with in case they picked you up and threw you out of the window and into the carpark. We started on hip throw, and moved onto ways of locking an assailant’s arm behind his back and double his foot back over your shin, but only if he was cooperative enough to lie face down on the ground first. I made my way through the belts, each grade assessed by some senior Sensei, who had made a special appearance from Kirklees HQ. There were compulsory camps – a competition in Middleton was my first trip to Manchester.
We tied a weekend in South Shields in with a visit to Auntie Nelly in Sunderland. How I wished I could stay with Mum and Dad in Nelly’s bungalow, with its cuddly toys and out-of-date cereal! Alas, participants slept in sleeping bags on the cold concrete floor of South Shields Sports Centre. Were there tens of us? Hundreds? Thousands? A night of endless noises and movement, I lay tense, waiting for the morning. But before it arrived, there was panic – some unwell kid clambering our way, quick, but – no – too late – sick, on the floor, but a metre from my head.
A brown belt, now, but still quaking as I did, I plucked up the courage to quit. It was quite the anti-climax. Senseis Phil and Maxine accepted my Quality Street, didn’t project me across the mats or test me with one final jab. Not long after, I started youth theatre: much more my thing. And it didn’t matter that there were no cool kids from my class there (who listened to the Beastie Boys and sometimes ate vegetarian meals) because youth theatre had a different kind of appeal: I enjoyed it.
Pauline Omoboye
Bogey rides, move and jiggle It takes me right back to my childhood As I picture it, I can see myself there Its where I got the most enjoyment And the exercise I got to be fair Was more than we ever envisaged Wrapped up in excitement of the ride The fact that it started at the top of the hill Made me so bubbly and fizzy inside. Dudley Brew was the hill that we climbed up Puffing, panting, reaching the top Looking down, you saw danger ahead of you But we didn't care about the treacherous drop. Stolen memories on the bogey my brothers had made I was forbidden by others to take a ride But with my twin stood beside me all confident As always, he was by my side. We took the bogey or call it go-Kart Going up and down the hill The seriousness we took in the journey It was almost like time would stand still. We would weave in and out pedestrians. Who walked innocently on their way To us it was another adventure As twins, we knew how to play. “Go faster,” he would yell “Go smoothly” so proud was my twin to see me glide He shouted as I quickened the pace His pleasure he could not hide. I pretended I was in the grand prix Sheer excitement written on my face Dodging dogs and elderly people Imagining I was in a race. So when I think about movement and exercise As kids we did it all in play Although not noticing how fit we were Adventure was the technique of the day. So get up move about and jiggle Shake your bum raise your arms and your feet If you keep moving and do some exercise The benefits you are sure to reap. ©P.Omoboye
Tony Goulding
This month’s topic for reflection “exercise”, brought to my mind myriad memories of the vast variety of physical activity I have participated in over my lifetime. Whereas some of these activities were solitary in nature such as the many long walks I have undertaken either for pleasure or through necessity, most involved a sport of one form or another incorporating social interaction.
I recalled several solitary walks, some of which in my teenage years were ways I would supplement my disposable income, by walking home from college or to and from City’s home matches at Maine Road to save on bus fares. The longest walk I completed of this nature was when I walked back to Chorlton-cum-Hardy from Heaton Park during Pope John-Paul II’s visit to Manchester on 31st May 1982. Though now no longer a way of saving money I still regularly walk on a few stops if I have a long wait for a bus. For pleasure I have always enjoyed walking around “the meadows” often reflecting on the thousands of people who have walked the well-trodden paths throughout the centuries. Before finishing with the subject of walking, I should mention one which was something of a crossover between solitary and communal exercise. This was when myself and a group of friends decided to attempt the coast-to-coast walk along Hadrian’s Wall. I am afraid to say I only managed about two thirds of it!
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Many of the memories I have involving my participation in various sports are connected to team or community building. In a couple of instances of this I was the instigator. Whilst at university I formed a football team, among members of a society I was in, to play in the college’s intra-mural league. On one occasion as part of the university’s rag week, we staged a sponsored 12-hour marathon 5-a-side tournament. A few years later, while working in London, I formed a team of fellow London-based Manchester City supporters to play matches against fans of other clubs. A highlight of this time was a trip to Dublin to play City’s Dublin branch. I still have my victory plaque.
Shane Murray
Reasons to not follow a fitness regime
I tried the gym many years ago in a vain attempt to add some muscle to my slight frame. One day whilst ‘running’ on the treadmill at the local gym, the monotony of the exercise lulled me into a trancelike state. Suddenly, I was hurled back off the apparatus and found myself sprawled across the floor. I suffered no injury other than acute embarrassment. Smiling sheepishly, I climbed back aboard the ‘dreadmill,’ noting that nobody came to my aid or asked if I was ok.
Monty Don’s comment on an episode of Gardeners’ World – and I paraphrase: “I find that if I turn my compost heap really thoroughly and regularly, I never feel the need to go to the gym!” (Granted that Longmeadow’s compost heap must be half the size of your average suburban garden, but you get the idea).
Whilst having the highest regard for Monty, I attribute my fondness for gardening to my dad whose solid build and calm demeanour seemed to exemplify its physical and mental benefits. He spent much of his leisure time tending the grounds and gardens of our local church. This was his way of relaxing after a week’s hard graft. There’s a family photo somewhere of Dad bent double amidst his rockery plants in our garden in Burnage, his broad backside framed by clouds of aubretia. The offspring of many specimens that flourished in the church grounds found their way to our garden on Green End Road – a good name for the destination of migrating parochial plant stock.
There are some poignant reminders of my dad when I am gardening. His old shovel, with the faded green shaft and handle, is still employed for moving compost to the borders. Assorted cuttings he planted for us back in the ‘80s, two still prosper. A large Hebe bush with long slender violet blooms flowering several times a year. A frothy display of Iberis Sempervirens (also known as ‘candytuft’ but I prefer my dad’s no nonsense name ‘white rock’) spilling over the low wall around our patio in Spring.
Surveying my most recent efforts, Josie announces:
“Your dad would be proud of you.”
And that lovely thought moves me.
Annette Bennett
Exercise – Who Me?
Exercise Is good for you So they say, But I wonder In what way For me? Let’s see. Should I join A gym? Aim to be slim And trim, Classes possibly Have a spin, Treadmill Weights Or swim a length Even two. Go for a walk With a friend Talk on the way. Take the dog out, A gentle jog. Something a little More serious, Join a hiking group With my map For the avoidance Of doubt. Ruck sack Picnic on hand In case direction And refreshment I demand. I could be more Active at home Select a movement App on the telly Work on flattening My belly So it doesn’t wobble Like a jelly In the privacy Of my own home All alone. Buy a bike Learn to cycle, Ride miles Or just to the shops With a couple of stops. Explore new places Be greener Leave the car behind, Remember to use The special lane Stay safe Other traffic Always keep in mind. Take up a new sport Maybe I ought! But what sort? Football Tennis Golf Or bowls At least with that There are no holes To worry about!. Although what if I just wanted to be A proficient Couch potato!! Be very good at it Excel. Practice getting On and off The sofa in a very Precise way Doing it every day. YES - that’s the One for me My choice! Exercise Maybe not I will think About it Honestly (But probably Not a lot).
The Stories of Our Lives 