Of all my modes of transportation, at least the modes that my body can provide, I most enjoy a good skipping moment. Walking can be delightful. On a perfectly cool day, when the sun is shining, and there’s a slight breeze in the air, I’d rather walk than anything else. Hopping is slightly below average, and I am not a fan of the drag-your-feet-shuffle. I’m lazy, but not that lazy. However, there is no day that I would opt to run or jog. No day, ever.
I often wonder how far my body could physically take me while running. I imagine I could walk for days, but the concept of running is so horrifying, that I actually feel a little nauseous just thinking about it. I wish I could be one of those surprising cases who comes out swinging, and suddenly runs a half marathon. (Cue the Rocky soundtrack.) But…I just don’t see that happening.
Anyway, here’s my case for skipping: It’s genuinely one of the most glee-inducing activities one can partake in. Like the highest note in “Carol of the Bells,” skipping somehow makes me grin wildly, and feel totally giddy. It’s just fun! It’s like being tickled, without the fear of not being able to breathe. Or laughing until milk comes out of your nose.
Skipping enables the skipper, for those brief moments, to totally release his or her body. There’s no stiffness, no sense of what’s socially acceptable and what’s not. Just flail about and frolic! It doesn’t matter. Whenever I skip, I always think about Phoebe from “Friends.” She has the best quote to describe it, “I’m more free. You know, I run like I did when I was a kid because that’s the only way it’s fun. You know?”