"Better to hunt in fields for health unbought
Then fee the doctor for a nauseous draught
The wise for cure on exercise depend;
God never made His work for man to mend."
--_Dryden._
It would have done your heart good to see her.
She came into the room with the briskness of a March flurry of snow.
Her cheeks were poppy-red, her eyes sparkled with the mere joy of
living. And she chuckled happily as she tucked back the curly scolding
locks that were flying about, all helter-skelter, like feathers
unloosed or fluffy chicks blowing away from the mother wing.
"Isn't it jolly?" she chirped, as she threw her muff on the floor and
made a dive for Peter Jackson. Peter Jackson is a cat, as black as the
ace of spades and as pugilistic a feline as ever walked a fence.
"Isn't what jolly?" I queried. "The weather or your sprightly self? Do
you know, you'd make a splendid poster now for some new-fangled
cork-soled walking shoe? Or perhaps a bearskin ulster for Klondike
wear. I'm sure a feather boa concern would pay a fortune for your
picture. I would I were an artist man, with a little brush and a little
pencil and a little palette with nice little paint puddles on it----"
"What-in-the-world? Here I start in to dilate upon the joys of exercise
and off you go, just like a musical top with your buzz-buzz-buzz, and
your incomprehensible talk about little painters and little palettes
and little paint puddles. I'm sure it's not a bit nice of you."
Peter Jackson was shoved to the floor.
"But walking is jolly!" she piped, "and I've just had the very
gloriousest tramp and I feel as fine as a--what is it they say? Oh, as
fine as a violin--I--I mean fiddle. I walked miles and miles--perhaps
not quite so far--and the wind was blowing a blue streak right in my
face. Ugh! first it made me shiver and creep up into my collar. But
bimeby I got nice and warmy, and my cheeks tingled. I felt as if I
could walk from here to the place where the sun goes down. Do you know,
I never before realized how much fun it was to take a good tramp. I've
half a mind to reform from my role of lazy-bones and walk every day,
whether it snows, blows, cyclones, or turns warm, and fells us all with
sunstrokes and heat prostrations."
"Health is the vital principle of bliss, and exercise of health," said
I, quoting Thomson.
"Oh, well," and my pretty, rosy-cheeked guest arose. "I must be going.
You know how it is when one gets to preaching physical culture and
spouting poetry. Ta-ta!" and away she went, like the fleeting memory of
last night's dream.
* * * * *
If women paid as much attention to exercise as do men there would not
be so many wrinkles and stooped shoulders among the feminine sex, and
old age wouldn't rap on the door ahead of time. The girl who goes in
for outdoor sport, who isn't afraid of walking a block or two, who
loves the cold air and who revels in wheeling and swimming and skating,
is the one who won't be an old woman in appearance while she is still
young in years. Keep the muscles firm and healthy by exercise. This
will not only improve your carriage and add to your general
development, but will aid the digestive organs in their work and keep
you animated and cheery. Who of us does not know the inspiration of a
walk in the open air after a few days spent in the close atmosphere of
the house? Fresh air is the elixir of life. We can't have too much of
it, and--oh, my girls--think of the exceeding cheapness of it! It can
be got for the asking, which is more than one can say for the various
beauty pomades and lotions that beckon us toward poverty.
Walking and skating are the best exercises during the winter, but all
kinds of exercises are acceptable, providing they are gone about in the
proper manner. It is easy enough to see why thorough and regular
exercise is absolutely necessary to health.
We all know--at least, we all should know--that the general size of the
human body depends on muscular development. The same bony frame which
makes a slim-jim girl that tips the scales at seventy-five pounds can
be padded with good solid flesh until it boasts of a triple chin,
fingers like wee roly-poly puddings, and a full 200 pounds in weight.
The framework of the body counts little toward size.
The muscles are like the various bits of machinery which go to make up
a steam engine. In performing their work they produce heat and motion.
The fuel which supplies this force is taken into the body as food,
prepared for use in the intestinal tract, and from there carried by the
blood to be stored up in the muscles and various tissues as latent
force. Through the circulation of the blood the whole body is heated by
muscular exercise. It stands to reason that continual exercise of a
certain kind will develop certain muscles. For instance, there's the
arm of the blacksmith or the firmly developed legs of the danseuse. The
same muscle that grows when used within certain limits will waste away
when deprived of proper exercise.
In physical culture the object is the symmetrical development of all
the muscles, not one at the expense of the other. So, for that reason,
don't pin your faith to dumb-bells and Indian clubs and neglect more
necessary exercise. If you do you will in time find yourself possessed
of big Sandow arms that will make the rest of you look as spindle-like
as a last year's golden-rod stalk.
Walking is as good a form of exercise as anything yet discovered. But
walking as most girls and women walk won't do you one bit of good. You
might just as well spend your time trying to count 700 backward or
while away the hours talking 1880 fashions with the woman next door,
for all the health or happiness or physical development that you will
get out of it.
Corsets and bands and belts must be done away with. You must have full,
free use of your lungs. Then, don't wear heavy petti-coats that will
retard the free movements of your legs and make your hips ache with
their tiresome weight. Dress warmly but as lightly as possible.
Above everything else don't stick your fingertips into a muff and
waddle along like a little duck in sealskin and purple velvet
trimmings. Your arms must swing easily at your sides. Thus equipped
walking should not be a task, but a great, big, lovely joy, no matter
if the frost does nip your nice little nose and make your cheeks feel
as if they had been starched, dried, ironed and hung on the line to
air.
English women who come to America can tell us a thing or two about long
walks. Only the other day a pretty Englishwoman with a complexion like
apple blossoms casually divulged the information that a walk of ten or
fifteen miles was an old, old story to her. So, when I say that three
miles a day--the three miles ought really to be covered inside an
hour--is not a bit too much to give one's muscles the necessary
exercise, I hope you won't lean back in your chair and gracefully
expire. Some of you will gasp, no doubt, for a walk of five blocks to a
suburban station is usually looked upon as a heroic martyrdom to
circumstances and environments.
Alas, for woman's fickleness! And alas, for her playful habit of going
to extremes! Suppose, for instance, that Polly Jones says she is going
to take a nice long walk every day of her life; that she knows the
bountiful blessings and benefits of a brisk tramp, and that she will
take that tramp in spite of obstacles as big as the Auditorium or as
immense as her longing for a cherry-colored silk petticoat.
The first day--and, mind you, she has not walked a mile for weeks, the
lazy girl--she covers five miles in an hour and ten minutes.
And when she comes home she's such a wreck that the whole family is up
in arms in a jiffy, and whisk out the tomahawks ready for war. That's
the end of Polly Jones' pedestrian exercises.
And Daisy Brown. She does quite the same thing, only not so violently.
The first day she walks four miles, the next two, and then comes a trip
around the corner to get arnica and liniments for her poor, aching
bones. Thus also terminates Daisy's stern resolution to take daily
constitutionals.
But the wise woman. Daisy's and Polly's methods are not hers. Far from
it! When she begins to walk for health and beauty she dons loose,
comfortable clothes, and with swinging arms and head well back, strides
along briskly and easily. Her first day's walk is scarcely a mile. The
second tramp is longer; and gradually the distance is increased until
the three miles are covered in about fifty minutes.
The wise woman does not take her exercise in the afternoon, but in the
morning, an hour or so after breakfast, when the day is young and
everything seems bright and hopeful and cheery. Then it is that the
babies are out in their go-carts and carriages, and the "chillens" are
trooping to school. It's heaps pleasanter than an afternoon walk when
one has more of the worries and events of the day on one's mind.
[Illustration: QUEEN HELENA OF ITALY]
It is the regularity of exercise--and living, in fact--that brings the
best results. A stated time for baths, meals, rests and walks is the
proper plan for those fortunate ones who are not rushed into a
condition of decrepit antiquity trying to do fourteen different tasks
in thirteen small, limited minutes. Some of us, the very busy ones,
cannot have the necessary rests during the day, but baths and exercise
can usually be arranged and carried out. They should be, for they are
of more vital import than most of us realize.
Running is splendid exercise, but we city folk have few opportunities
for exhilarating fun of that sort. A woman sprinting for a cable car
might quite as well be a trained bear in a pink mosquito netting
petticoat for the sensation and giggles she creates. With a bonnet
perched over one ear or dangling dizzily from an escaping empire knot
she is neither a dignified nor an inspiring picture.
So it's quite as well all around to run in one's own room. In fact, the
best way to run is to run in one small spot and not go ahead. That
sounds befuddled, but it is easily explained. Get into loose clothes,
throw open the window, place your hands on your hips and go through the
movements of running. It is best to be in stocking feet or light
slippers, else that odious woman in the flat below may knock on the
steam pipe as a signal for peace and quiet.
After fifteen minutes of mock running take an invigorating, tepid
sponge bath with just a dash of benzoin in the water. After that comes
vigorous friction with a rough towel. Then take a nap if you can spare
the time. Of course one must guard against exposure to cold after one
is heated by the exertion of exercise.
Dancing would be one of the best of exercises were it not for the
close, ill-ventilated rooms, the tight clothes, the exposed shoulders
and the nervous strain which is always on hand at large social affairs.
As for skating, there is nothing better. It makes a woman feel like a
new man. I say that quite consciously, as, in my opinion, to feel like
a new woman--that poor, long-ridiculed creature--would be more
humiliating than joyful. Don't you think so?
Horseback riding is questionable exercise. The side saddle is apt to
increase the tendency to curvature of the spine, while tight corsets
prevent the good that would come to the heart and lungs and digestive
organs. Swimming is good, particularly for nervous, high-strung
persons. And the wheel? Well, that best of all exercises--for it is the
best when indulged in by the wise woman, not the crooked-back,
scorching, silly--is a story in itself.