Seduced into Exercising

Today is one of those days when the city justifies its high rents. Its also a day when I realised that the reason LA has beautiful, fit people is because of the weather. If I lived in LA, or if SF's weather was more like that - a sunny disposition all year round, instead of weird mood swings that it has), I'd probably have six-pack abs by now.

The morning dawned bright and sunny, the waters of the bay glowi... actually I don't know what the dawn looked like at all. I woke up at eleven in the morning - (Hey, its decently early by Sunday morning standards). But I can say for sure that noon dawned bright and sunny, and hot. Hot enough for the breeze to be warm instead of chilly. In fact as I sit her typing on my laptop, nearly seven thirty in the evening, its still bright and sunny and hot outside. Hot enough for me to be sitting here sweating. That never happens...well ok, it happens...but only about 5 days in a year and usually they're all in October.

I was going to follow my usual Sunday morning routine - read the NYT, have brunch, laze around watching TV, order in if there's no plans and watch more TV. But almost as soon as I stepped out to meet my locationally-named friend Malad for brunch in the Marina I was assaulted by guilt pangs for not making use of the wonderful weather to get some exercise in. As Malad and I walked down Chestnut St we saw hordes (ok not hordes but many) of fitness-freaks running, skating, cycling their way to Amazing Abs. This continued all through our 3 egg-omelette brunch (I skipped the cheese as a concession to my guilt-gods) since we made the mistake of sitting outside in the sun. ..."because we couldn't sit in the sun in India" said my friend, on the one day that it was too hot to sit outside in SF too. :)

After brunch, Malad headed off for a snooze. Propelled by a mixture of guilt and voyeurism (several of the men running or even just walking on the streets were displaying a rather endearing propensity to do so without their shirts), I decided to go for a short cycle ride along the marina. It turned out to be a great idea. There was almost a festival going on there and only part of it was about fitness. The overall effect of all that activity in the marina's beautiful setting was rather energising.

I feel compelled to describe the scene to you, dear reader...Along the ribbon of greenery that runs along the waterfront...there were the afore referenced shirtless men (and shirt-ful women) jogging, skating and cycling; colorful kites bobbing in the blue sky; one of them, a many-tailed monster, was tormenting a black dog (see pics); people were picnicking on the benches near Fort Point and some were even sunning themselves on the excuse for a beach there; a stray blue balloon struggled in the branches of a tree in Crissy Fields; the gold dome of the Palace of Fine Arts glowed in the sun, nicely setting off the view of the mostly white houses behind it; the Acalacia* trees growing along the road that climbs up to the Golden Gate looked like pyramids banded with layers of shade and sunny green; white sail-boats dotted the Bay; kids were playing volleyball; people lazed in the grass amongst the California buttercups reading, dozing...you get the picture. It was a great place to be. Entranced by the scene, I ended up spending 90 minutes cycling up and down the waterfront - must have covered 6-7 miles. Definitely enough to work off that omelette.

Of course, tomorrow the cold, blustery weather shall be back and I shall again have an excuse for not exercising. Sometimes I think the only way I can have a six-pack is to get cosmetic surgery (they put a six-pack plastic board just under your stomach skin) or to go to the nearest corner store and buy beer**. Guess which one I'll pick :)

*Don't bother googling Acalacia trees to see what they look like. I made the name up. Who the hell knows what the trees are called. I'm pretty convinced most authors do the same.

**Shouldn't a set of six beer cans be called a Pot-Belly instead of a Six-Pack? Doesn't make any sense!