Thus The Guardian today. “Ten ways to get exercise—without really trying,” elaborates the newspaper. I was attracted by a large photograph showing a man in his sixties walking up the stairs two steps at a time, but I skipped the article. It is intended for babyboomers like myself, but less astute ones. I stopped using elevators and escalators in my late forties. I was living in London and Reading at the time, and I also stopped using taxis, buses, and the wretched subway. Instead, I walked. London turned out to be much smaller than people around me thought. And so did Reading. Starting to walk and climb stairs at my present age would be way too late. Late sixties is hardly any time to start anything new, for that matter. Many babyboomers missed the opportunity when the time was right. When they were much younger, that is. Day after day, year after year, I must have walked from Madrid to Moscow and climbed Mount Everest without even noticing. Most of the people my age could not bother, though. Some of them went to the gym, but they stopped doing that soon enough. The sofa, the car, and the cushy swivel chair in their office offered all the exercise they ever got. And now they are supposed to be advised by some silly newspaper. Happy for life, my ass.