Monday, January 18, 2016

Swimming Laps

Everyone agrees that we need to exercise, though finding advice about exercise is a bit like consulting a rabbi (if you're the kind of person who asks rabbis what to do). If you want to be told that moderate exercise, some walking, is enough, you can find a web site that tells you that, and if you want to be told to do serious workouts to strengthen your core muscles you can find plenty of web sites that will tell you how to do that.
When my knees were younger, I jogged pretty regularly, and I enjoyed that. Whenever I see runners, I envy them. I can't do it anymore. I can still walk pretty far, but sometimes it hurts.
I've never used exercise machines. I have unexplained, deep-seated resistance to them. I occasionally force myself to do simple calisthenics. But I know it's not enough. So, with a fair amount of pushing from my wife, I've begun to swim.
I've worked myself up to doing 20 laps (1,000 meters) of crawl without stopping, and I manage to do that at most twice a week, sometimes only once.
Swimming is not exactly the most stimulating activity one can indulge in, and the main thing on my mind when I do it is keeping track of how many laps I've done. I try to be aware of the sensations, the feel of the water, the bubbling sound of my exhalation, how tired I am, how strong I am, whether my legs are cramping, whether I manage to hit a stride. It's a form of meditation.
I guess I should aim for three times a week, but it takes me an hour and a half to get to the pool, change, swim, shower, dress, and go home, and I begrudge the time.
I have the option of buying a yearly membership, but so far I've been buying 11-entry tickets. I'm nearly finished with the second ticket. I'll have to decide whether to buy another one or to commit and buy a membership. It comes out cheaper, but will I really use it enough? I'm still not sure.
I go in mid-morning, when the pool isn't crowded, and most of the other swimmers are on the old side, like me. I have distressing thoughts. When will I start looking like the other old men in the locker room? Maybe I do already. I'm 71 now, and I can swim 1000 meters, but how long is that going to last? Am I going to be coming to this not so well maintained pool as long as it's open and I'm not too decrepit, every year doing doing less and less, until I can only paddle weakly on my back like an arthritic walrus?
But that applies to all the stuff I do. Someday, not too far in the future, I'm going to be too sick, too weak, too demented to keep them up.
I console myself: the best way to keep that time as far off in the future as possible is to stay as active as possible now. Anyway, the future is more or less out of one's control.

Sunday, January 17, 2016

Do You Love Your Flute?

A few months ago a very persuasive salesman in a Tel Aviv music store sold me a Sankyo silver flute that cost more than I was prepared to pay at the outset, and one that is better than I am. It's a professional level flute, and I'm an amateur level flautist. I kind of regretted the purchase for a day or two. Music stores abroad sell the same model of flute for a good bit less money, but I'm here in Israel, not abroad, and it's a bad idea to buy a musical instrument without trying it out. Besides, there is a rationale for buying from a local brick and mortar store, as they are called, rather than from a web site: it's in my interest as a musician in Israel to have instrument stores thrive and import a large variety of fine instruments.
I've been playing the new flute for a couple of months, and my playing has been improving. And if it's not improving, I know that the instrument isn't holding me back. But surprisingly, I don't love my flute as much as I love my saxophones. When I open the case of my baritone saxophone and see it lying there in the blue felt cushioning, I feel a surge of love for it. The Freudian term is "cathexis": "the investment of emotional significance in an activity, object, or idea."
I feel zero cathexis for my electronic equipment, my computers and my smart phone, or my stereo system. I feel close to zero cathexis for my car, even though we just treated ourselves to a new car this winter. But I love my saxophones! (Don't ask me how many I have.)
I am working on falling in love with my flute now, hoping that the love will be reciprocated.