REDUCED « Robin Writes

Yes, we’re starting now—Rome wasn’t built in a day, right? In case you missed last week’s post, we’re moving on out, no, not to the east side or even up, necessarily. Out to the woods. Homesteading. Survival. Peace and quiet. Fewer ridiculous regulations. You know.

First, the getting healthy and in shape part which, of course, is ongoing. I’ve cut my smoking—yes, I smoke, don’t judge—and upped my exercise. Ouch. It’s not a conventional plan, because damn, that stuff is boring . . . Go ahead, you exercise nuts, tell me how wonderful it is. I’ll wait.

There, feel better? Yeah, me too. Okay, so basically I just do more physical stuff each day. Twenty push-ups? I’ll do at least that many the next day. Walk a couple miles? At least two tomorrow. As long as I don’t backslide, I’m doing okay.

We do have some equipment: treadmill, recumbent bike, weight bench. These will be going on the market soon, because 1) we’re downsizing and 2) you certainly don’t need stuff like this if you’re living out in the woods. There’s plenty to do out there to keep in shape—and plenty to do here, too, while we’re “in process.”

In the meantime, sure, we’ll use them. Good way to start, although again, boring! I’d rather get something done while getting a workout than just sit and pedal or walk/run nowhere.

Speaking of running—dear Lord, I almost spelling that “funning.” Not—I have a bad knee(s) and a couple/few messed up discs in my back/neck. Oh, and an ITB problem. Not an ideal candidate for any of this, right? In fact, last week after The Paver Incident as I like to call it, I could barely walk for two days in spite of my heavy-duty knee brace. But, by Day 3, it was like it never happened. Go figure.

No, I’m not changing the name of my blog to “The Gimpy Survivalist.”

Yes, I have an assortment of braces and yes, I’m stocking up on Advil. But the most important thing is exercise and strength—I have been given, over the years, different sets of exercises to strengthen and flex the problem areas. I just need to step it up. And you know how much I like this exercise thing, right?

But here’s where it gets interesting: I finally figured out that I need to strike while the iron’s hot, whether it’s chores or writing or (gasp!) exercising. In other words, I don’t make a plan or schedule because I’ll also make excuses for NOT following it.

So I get in the stretches when I can; and the aerobics; and the weights; and the walking—notice I did not say “running.” Although I saw the video of the 80-year-old dancer yesterday, and I’m slightly ashamed . . .

Where was I? Oh, right: timing. A minute and a half to make my coffee = stretches. Thirty seconds to reheat it = aerobics. More pavers = weights. Plus walking. Not strolling, fast walking. And, dear heavens, not that silly power-walking stuff. Oy.

And if I sometimes need braces or RICE, so be it. The stronger all your problem areas become, the easier this getting-in-shape thing is going to be. It’s not a number, it’s not a schedule, it’s a mind-set and a goal of being able to do the things that you have to do.

Like running from zombies. Heh.

Seriously—I don’t watch this show on a regular basis, but sometimes my husband does. Last night’s episode (or maybe it was recorded), featured a couple dropped into Madagascar and having to survive—naked, naturally—for 21 days.

Typically, on each show, there’s a man and a woman, strangers, and they must survive with one tool each and make their way to the pick-up point. Tools of choice usually include a firestarter and a knife, and both have at least a 7.0 on a 10-point scale of skill level.

So, last night, we have a devoutly religious man and a woman who’s an environmentalist. Problems One and Two.

This is one deserted place—no wildlife spotted, apparently, except snakes and lizards. Ick. And I mean “ick” as far as dinner in concerned. But before that . . .

Now, in a situation such as this, your first priority is a water source; second is fire, then shelter. Now, I’m not saying I would or could ever do this, and being an armchair survivalist is all well and good, but . . .

First, Dude wanted to grab an empty bird’s nest for tinder, for later when they were planning to build a fire; Chick said no way, you’re harming the bird population. Duke acquiesced, and they moved on.

Guess who had a hard time finding tinder later on?

Huh.

The temp’s about 100 degrees, and they keep walking. They come upon a cave, nice shelter, but there are a dozen or so sacs of black widow eggs. Dude says they should knock them down and squish them, Chick says no way, you’re harming the environment.

Seriously??

A few days later, a scorpion crawls under her during the night—she smashed the hell out of that thing, and then decided the spiders were next.

Huh.

There’s a tiny pool of water near the cave, and a trickle over the rocks, and naturally it took forever to find tinder/build a fire. Then they stay put, mostly, to wait out their 21 days.

Sadly, fires have a way of going out when no one tends them; and Dude had promised his new wife that there would be “no cuddling.” Temps at night were in the 40s. Yep.

And EIGHT DAYS LATER, they’ve had no food. None. A tiny lizard succumbs to a day’s hunt; a snake is killed, and Chick is now all about KILLING. Ha. Long story short, they overcooked the snake.

Next hunting trip, they find and kill another snake; for some reason, they decided to smoke it, but hallelujah—the fire’s going great now and THIS one gets burned up. Completely. So they scope out the guts and find—eggs. Ick.

I swear, if I ever had to do this, my “tool” of choice would be a case of granola bars.

Back to being an armchair survivalist:

Find water. A lot of it, if you’re in a desert situation. Gather fire material, to purify said water—doesn’t do any good if you have a ton of undrinkable water OR, as in Dude and Chick’s case, you find no way to store and carry it as needed. Most importantly, if it’s you against the flora and fauna, YOU win, not the birds, not the spiders, etc.

Keep warm at night, so you can rest. Keep in shape. Find or make shelter. Tend the damn fire.

And don’t be so cocky that you think it’s a game. It’s not. At least, not in real life.