Wild Claim of the Day

Well, this is exciting news for all of those who may be seeking immortality and all the wrinkles that go with it. An article in the Daily Rant today states that 'A Walk A Day Halves Death Risk.'

Cor! Is that all it's going to take for me to up my chances of beating the Grim Reaper? A quick nip around the park will keep me one step ahead of dying? Given that my current risk of death is 100% (being a living, breathing creature and all) it seems I could halve that risk to 50% by walking.

Of course, once you read on, it is revealed that things aren't quite as they seem in the headline. 'Take a brisk walk every day for at least 20 minutes halves the risk of an early death, say researchers,' the article continues.

Ah, so now the truth is coming out. Truth and provisos. At least 20 minutes, eh? Well, that covers everything from 21 minutes to 24 hours, doesn't it? It's not very precise. I need to know numbers. I need to know times. I'm a busy woman for heaven's sake. I have things to do. In order to factor in my death defying 'at least 20 minutes' of walking time, I need to know EXACTLY the amount of walking minutes I need to well, walk. And how brisk is brisk? I mean, I can get a shift on when I want, but if determining briskness requires buying a stopwatch, taking my pulse and dividing it by my desire to live forever, you can forget it.

And what's this? Early death? Not merely death, it seems, now the probing has started, but early death. You see, once you start reading for the truth of a matter, things don't seem as rosy as the headlines imply.
Also, define 'early' for me. My Dad died when he was 56. Which is early for an eighty year old, but then my sister died when she was 22, so 56 would have been very late for her. When I tell people I get up at 6 a.m, they say 'That's early.' Well, not for me it isn't. But when certain other people in the household don't surface until gone 9, then yes, I can see that my 6 o'clock start is quite sharp for the get up and go.

Reading on, I find this research was done in America. On men. Aged 70 to 92. I'm afraid I did a snorty laugh when I read the name of the chief researcher who was called Professor Kokkinos. (It's hanging around with Andy, I'm afraid. I've developed a very juvenile sense of humour since we got married.)

So, given I am an English female aged 43, I started thinking maybe this research didn't apply to me. And by the end of the article when Prof Kokkinos stated that 'Although ageing and death are inevitable, the rate for both can be modulated by maintaining a physically active lifestyle at any age,' I knew I'd hit upon the Daily Rant's Article of the Day for Stating the Bleedin' Obvious.

Talk about building up a girl's hopes and slapping 'em down.

The article finished with the observation that 'In the UK most people do not exercise five times a week for 30 minutes or more - the Government's official recommendation.' At this point I reached a sense of impending doom. My odds on defying death were zilch.

At least, I would have been doom laden if I believed this bumpf. Instead, I am decidedly cheerful with life at the moment and if the Grim Reaper arrives on the doorstep today he'll have my Mum to deal with as she is coming for lunch. We're having chicken cobbler and trifle. And it is a well known fact that Death prefers beef. The fruit and veg are all organic and home grown. Harvested by me and Andy at the allotment yesterday (2 hours exercise) and created after a brisk hour's walk into town and back this morning to get some chicken, some cream and some custard powder.

It's all relative, this being alive malarkey. We go when we go and there's little we can do about the timing and the circumstances (other than not walking across in front of speeding buses, of course).

And now you must excuse me. The art of proper custard making calls and Mrs Slocombe is doing her daily shout of 'I've laid an egg, I've laid an egg, I'VE LAID AN EGG!!!!'

Ta-ta...for now!!