For several years now I have systematically avoided it, in fact, the kids and I would take our bikes in the car and drive over to a local track or park. "The hill" was unconquerable to me and perhaps in some ways-just too exhausting looking. This year my eleven year old started bugging me about riding his bike up and down the hill. This caused my husband and I great anxiety given the limited vision on the hill, cars, going fast enough-cannot or could not see someone directly on the other side of the steep hill-and though I live on a dirt road, it is no speed deterent. So, I finally decided it was time to invest in some local exercise and rhythm. The kids and now I wake up, first thing and either jog, walk or bike "the hill" and at night-the same thing after dinner. Besides the exhilerating fact that I am no longer intimidated by the big hill-the kids and I have been picking all sorts of wild flowers and herbs and learning about the local surroundings- cows, horses, deer, hawk, echinecea flowers, and tiny all heal-are all about of the summer's journey and exercise routine.

This summer experience which has brought me off of the arsenic-benzene laden asphalt running track and out of my comfy yoga studio has made me think about gym goers-yes, that was me just a few years ago-in the poisonous and energy draining fluorescent lights, going through mechanical motions on machines, swapping sweat with strangers, running on treadmills watching 10 TVs at once-and alas, driving quite a distance to endure all of that. I was teaching my children that exercise is something that is created in a building-making it arduous and unattainable to some degree and even inconvenient. Besides, that, I was uncomfortable with how "gym" kids were "worked" into their parents workout schedule. Some of the children at our gym were clearly suffering from emotional abandonnment from gym obsessed parents. After spending 8-10 hours at school, they were dropped off in the play area of the gym while their parents worked out and then many of the children ate fast food on their way home while their parents downed amino acid-protein cocktails to "save time". This in some way parallels the gloomy life of children with running addicted mom's-the ones you see strapped into running strollers-for hours on end-passed out-their head's on their shoulder while their parents jog on ignoring their cries and emotional needs. Exercise, like anything can become a habit for our mental illness if we are not careful and conscious about it and if we have children, we are always setting an example, whether good or bad.

Now, as a gym recoverer, I say there-is no excuse and no hill too high, there is a whole world out there to enjoy-complete with fresh air, sunlight and singing birds to help us along our journey. I relate this story to Beatrix Potter's story of Johnny Town Mouse and Timmie Willie from the country-I am the house mouse finding my way outdoors!