Here I am, stalking the dreaded X! Working my way through the dictionary’s list of words, (finding some good scrabble entries, by the way) I finally come to a word I could write about: Xyst (pronounced zist) means a roofed area used by the ancient Greeks for athletic training. I can hear the husband saying “Honey, I’m going down to the Xyst. Be back in an hour or so”.
He would have packed his gym bag (not too full since they didn’t wear clothes). Wife would remember to ask, “Did you pack your discus?” To get there, he would have probably gone on foot. Or if he had the money, he may have owned a chariot.
I can hear the wife , “Honey, I need the chariot, would you mind walking? I need to go shopping”. “Ok, I don’t need to go shopping, but will you pick up some bread after?’ (And of course he forgets on the way home.) Ok, I’ll be kind, I think our guy was training for the olympics and had loftier things on his mind. Or maybe he was thinking about the big game on TV….Oh my goodness, for a moment there, I forgot where we were.
So to bring things up to the present……..We are fortunate to have many choices about where to exercise. And how do we get to them? We drive. Usually. And if we are lucky, we remember to buy the bread on the way home. And chips. And also a 6-pack of beer. The big game is on TV today.