When I was a drifter, I walked a lot, I carried a heavy pack, I procured and cooked my meals under varying circumstances. And subsequently, I was in the best shape of my life. When I returned to "normal" life, one of the hardest things was trying to hold on to that daily allowance of walking, and the way it just fit into your daily chores of cadging a living.
When you drive everywhere, when you have every convenience, when you're only exercise at work is walking to the elevator, and you reach middle age, it gets tougher and tougher. Nevermind the fact that the meal at the end of the day is partly a reward for suffering through the BS day. Not making excuses for people, but the cards are stacked against them. Or else I'm wrong.
you're=your
I don't know when I started making THAT kind of error. I hate to say it, but it's the weed and wine, methinks.