It all started quite casually., as a mere excuse to stretch my legs a little. On the fourth or fifth day of confinement, I started to feel the muscles in my body starting to go numb., And if we add to that the fact that I have never been naturally inclined to play sports, I came to the conclusion that, If I didn't want to end up in a wheelchair for the rest of my days, I had to move a little.
The first exercises consisted of taking short runs from the children's room, which is at the back of the house, to the dining room, next to the front door. The problem is that, In the case of an average family like mine, Our apartment is very small and, or when I started to get hot I immediately reached the other extreme, sometimes crashing into the wall, or I would end up bumping into one of my children, my partner or a huge and very hairy dog we have, making coexistence, already complicated these days, a little more difficult. Was, in this way, how I was encouraged to explore new and broader frontiers. First clandestinely, and using the pretext of taking the garbage out to the street, I started taking a walk down the stairs of the building where I live.. Then I left the excuses and went out just to go out. At first, I did it around ten at night, when I thought no one could see me. Then, as I gained confidence, I was expanding my hours to any other time of the day. And, by chance, I was during one of these walks with one of my neighbors, I greeted him politely, disguising, treating, yes indeed, to maintain the distance advised by the authorities to avoid contagion. And, in accordance with the rules of courtesy, that neighbor asked me, that?, go for a walk?, I laughed and pretended to be a fool, like it was a joke, avoiding answering. Let's see when this ends, I told him, awkwardly, to avoid your attention on me. And the other one got angry or, According to the case, He returned some humorous comment on the matter., we laughed for a while and, then, we separated without further ado.
I live on the seventh floor. There are one hundred and twelve steps from the patio that faces the street to the door of my house.. Eight steps per flight, sixteen between each floor. If you did the exercise three times a day, There were three hundred and thirty-six steps.. A good sum. I recognize that, in my first attempts, it cost me a little. So many years going up and down the elevator had left my thighs a little reluctant for such a demanding exercise.. But as the days of confinement went by and I increased my frequency of walking down the stairs, things were improving. On my first outings, I felt conscious of each step, of each floor that was surpassed. The first, The second, am I still going to the room?, he told me. And so. but later, There were times when I lost consciousness of myself and, Abstracted by any foolish thought that crossed my mind, believing to have started, I had already reached the top. A miracle? No, It's just a simple matter of practice, I told myself. But not, I was wrong. There was something else. I should have realized much earlier.
And it is that, given my stubborn character and boredom, what at first was presented as a healthy activity, It started to take up a good part of my hours., coming to neglect, even, some of my commitments with my family, fact that caused me quite a few arguments with my wife and some disagreements with the children., that they felt frustrated because they no longer received the proper attention from me. Whether it is due to the obligation to be cloistered, Maybe because exercise helped my low mood., soon my escapes to the stairs became an obsession. Sometimes, even, I used to dream about it. in my dreams, freer than in everyday material reality, I went up and down my stairs as many times as I wanted and I felt very happy. One day, however (Was I awake or dreaming??), something very strange happened.
If I'm honest, I don't know how it all started. I was going down the stairs towards the street, I do remember that. I went down and down, but it never got anywhere. I felt disoriented. How long have I been going down?, I told myself. Worried that I was lost, I started to climb again, but it didn't go anywhere either. I went down again. And then, I went back up. As, after a long time, nor did it seem to achieve any recognizable goal, I stopped. I tried to concentrate. Very good, what floor do you live on?, think. In the seventh. and where are you now? In the fifth. Bueno, well you know what you have to do, I said out loud now, for encouraging me. And so, I started to climb again. But, After a while I realized that I had forgotten the apartment where I lived. And the door? twenty six. Coincidentally, I arrived without knowing how to deal with this number, but, to my surprise, The key he had in his pants pocket did not fit in the lock.. I rang the doorbell, but no one answered. So, I continued climbing. And then, going down. And then I went back up and, later, to go down. I was desperate. for a moment, I came to believe that I could be up and down all my life, that would die, alone and defeated, on those dark stairs. Lucky that, by chance, on one of my many trips up and down, Some neighbors opened the door of their house and, looking sad and confused, They offered to take me in.
It was a retired couple I had never seen on my block.. They treat me well. I give them conversation and, in exchange, They allow me to stay at their house without asking me for anything (It would have seemed fair to me if they had demanded some type of payment from me in the form of rent or compensation for the expenses I cause them., I'm not a guy who eats, precisely, in a frugal way). They told me they have two children, but they never call them nor do they go to visit them (not even now, not even before the spread of the pandemic), so my modest company has cheered them up a little in their solitude. Today, I have one of your rooms reserved for my use and, although I own few things of my own, I feel relatively comfortable. One day, I asked them what floor they lived on., but they acted clueless and didn't want to answer me, I assumed that in order not to give me any clues and to avoid, So, to run away from the house.
Sometimes, life in my new house is a bit boring. Since I don't move much, I feel a little stiff, so, as long as, when the couple goes to bed after dinner, I take the keys from the door and I'm going to take a walk down the stairs.. GERARDO LEON
