30+又不想運(yùn)動(dòng)的人，試試太極吧

Staying Fit (and Unplugged) With Tai Chi

30+又不想運(yùn)動(dòng)的人，試試太極吧

Call me lazy, but I’m not big on exercise. For most of my adult life, my weight stayed the same no matter how much I ate or didn’t work out.

你可以說(shuō)我懶，我的確不太擅長(zhǎng)運(yùn)動(dòng)。不過在成年的大部分時(shí)間里，不管吃多少，不管運(yùn)動(dòng)與否，我的體重一直保持不變。

Then I turned 35 (three years ago), and my metabolism started to slow. At first, I blamed the clothes dryer when my pants no longer fit, but I couldn’t deny time for long. I knew I had to start exercising.

三年前我35歲，新陳代謝開始變慢了。褲子剛開始不合身時(shí)，我怪罪起了衣服烘干機(jī)，可后來(lái)我無(wú)法再回避問題，不得不開始鍛煉。

The only problem was, I couldn’t. I have such a pathetic inability to focus that I get bored with running while I’m putting on my sneakers.

問題是，實(shí)踐起來(lái)我很難做到。我的精神集中能力簡(jiǎn)直具有缺陷。一穿上運(yùn)動(dòng)鞋，就對(duì)跑步產(chǎn)生厭煩。

As a tech columnist, I followed my first instinct and turned to technology, including fitness bands like Nike Fuelband and Jawbone Up, but none worked. These devices seemed to be better at marketing than motivating me.

作為一名科技專欄的作家，我遵從了自己的第一直覺，向科技求助，比如使用耐克Fuelband和Jawbone Up一類的運(yùn)動(dòng)腕帶，可惜它們都不奏效。這些設(shè)備似乎更能在市場(chǎng)推廣上發(fā)揮功用，而不是激勵(lì)我進(jìn)行鍛煉。

Then I switched to iPhone apps, including RunKeeper, which tracked my paltry runs, and the 7 Minute Workout, which was seven minutes too long. None of those could combat my immense boredom.

后來(lái)我又開始使用iPhone應(yīng)用程序，例如RunKeeper，它能記錄我微不足道的跑步量，還提供“七分鐘鍛煉法 (7 Minute Workout)”，結(jié)果我發(fā)現(xiàn)七分鐘也還是太漫長(zhǎng)了。這些方法沒有一個(gè)可以幫助我戰(zhàn)勝?gòu)?qiáng)烈厭倦的情緒。

The solution, perhaps not surprisingly, was to get as far away from technology as I could.

解決辦法大概并不令人意外：遠(yuǎn)離科技，越遠(yuǎn)越好。

I tried surfing and rock climbing, which kept me somewhat engaged, but the real answer, at least for me, was tai chi, a Chinese martial art that mixes graceful motions with meditation. (If boxing and yoga had a baby, it might look like tai chi.)

我開始嘗試沖浪和攀巖，這些多少能讓我集中些注意力。不過真正的解決之道，至少對(duì)我來(lái)說(shuō)，是太極。太極是中國(guó)的一種武術(shù)，將優(yōu)雅的動(dòng)作與冥思結(jié)合起來(lái)(看起來(lái)可能像拳擊和瑜伽的融合體)。

I explored group classes, but found it best to start by taking private lessons with Master Qichen Guo, who said he immediately recognized that my “mind was too busy” and that it could be “calmed” through tai chi. I was skeptical, but Mr. Guo turned out to be right.

我研究了一些大班課程，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)最好還是先上郭祺禎(音譯)大師的私人課程，他說(shuō)他很快發(fā)現(xiàn)我的“頭腦思緒太多”，可以通過太極“平靜下來(lái)”。對(duì)此我很是懷疑，結(jié)果證明郭先生是對(duì)的。

As I focused on learning the balancing movements, the distractions seemed to float away, including the catcalls in my head to check Twitter every nanosecond. (My teacher also demonstrated how he could throw me to the floor with barely any effort.)

在集中注意力學(xué)習(xí)平衡運(yùn)動(dòng)時(shí)，我的那些分心思緒似乎飄走了，包括頭腦里每一毫微秒都在誘惑著我察看Twitter的喧鬧提示音(我的老師還向我展示他如何能毫不費(fèi)力地把我摔倒在地)。

There are (surprisingly) few apps for tai chi, but there are thousands of (mostly low-quality) YouTube videos.

(令人意外的是)幾乎沒有關(guān)于太極的應(yīng)用程序，YouTube上倒是有上萬(wàn)個(gè)關(guān)于太極的(大多是低水平的)視頻。

Yet it turned out I would be able to combine exercise and technology after all.

最終，我還是把鍛煉和科技結(jié)合起來(lái)了。

To practice at home, Mr. Guo told me to use my smartphone to record his movements so I could watch and imitate them between lessons.

為了在家練習(xí)，郭老師讓我用智能手機(jī)把他的動(dòng)作錄下來(lái)，以便課下跟著模仿。

Which is working out well, though I have to put my smartphone in airplane mode, or I’ll get distracted by the Internet.

這種方法很有效，盡管我必須把智能手機(jī)調(diào)成飛行模式，不然就會(huì)被互聯(lián)網(wǎng)分神。