Moving.

Outside: right where you want to be on new year's day.
Big Wave Bay, Hong Kong.

I came across this great little film the other day.  It features Will Gadd, a Canadian rock and ice climber, talking about the importance of moving.  Not moving from one country to another, but the need to keep moving - literally - rather than staying still. Running, cycling, climbing, kayaking, hitting the gym, even just going for a walk - in his words, "the type of movement is less important than moving itself... a day spent on the sofa should be a welcome anomaly, not than a way of life". The film is short, and definitely worth a look. It's inspiring to me mainly because his circumstances are not a million miles from my own. He may be sponsored - by Red Bull amongst others - but he has a wife and children and works for a living, in his case through writing, teaching, coaching, guiding and blogging.  As Gadd himself says, "I'm 46 years old. a middle aged guy. A dad. Not a youth, not an action figure." 

The film really struck a chord with me because since about early September of this year - ever since I came back from Italy, life was all about moving to Hong Kong, and all the necessary logistical challenges that involved. Planning, list-making, clearing, packing, stressing, travelling, settling, finding our way around a new city, starting a new job, meeting new people and generally getting to grips with our new life. All of that left little time for actually getting out there and moving. As a result I started to feel increasingly lethargic and, well, lazy.  My newly purchased road-bike sat unused in my office - I found I was too busy to find the time to buy pedals, shoes and a helmet - and my excuses to my co-workers about why  I owned a bike that I wasn't actually using started to sound increasingly lame.

But by Christmas things had definitely taken a turn for the better.  We now feel established in our new apartment, we've met a few locals down at the climbing wall, my work travel schedule has calmed down and some routine is slowly returning to our lives.  Its dawning on us just what a great place this is to live in terms of getting into the outdoors. In the last few weeks we've been hiking, running bouldering and sport climbing - all without having to travel more than an hour from our apartment. We spent boxing day on a beach and new year's eve climbing at a crag five minutes from where we live.  Santa very kindly brought me some pedals, shoes, a helmet gloves and a wind-jacket for my bike (thanks Anita, mum and Veejay!) and I've been getting out for some early morning rides to the coast of increasing length, difficulty and painfulness.  On new year's eve I cycled for an hour, went to work, dashed home, packed my climbing gear and spent three hours with Anita struggling to figure out the crux moves on a stiff F6c climb. I ended the day watching fireworks from the roof of our building with grazed arms, bleeding elbows, sore fingers and aching legs.  I couldn't have been happier. On new year's day we went for a four hour hike over a couple of peaks in one of the island's multiple country parks and last week spent a blissful week climbing limestone sport routes straight off a beach in Thailand.  

Over here I've realised it is particularly easy to throw oneself into work. Hours spent in the office, commitment to the cause, career advancement, monetary gain, personal wealth - all of these things are valued highly in Hong Kong.  So I keep telling myself that the value of moving outweighs all of these things by an order of magnitude.  I'm sitting here writing this on the first day of 2014 thinking about the possibilities ahead. Tomorrow I'll get up at 7am, get Iliya up for her morning feed, sort Lara out with her breakfast, and head out on my bike for a ninety minute ride over the steepest hills I can find. If I'm feeling brave I may cycle up to the top of Victoria peak, a ride I've been putting off for a while - and have dubbed "pain for breakfast".   When I'm an hour in, facing the third climb, legs burning, lungs bursting and wondering whether the next corner is the last before the top, that's when I'll know I'm really living.