How often do you walk or run?
Introduction: The World’s Most Dangerous Small Talk
There are some questions in life that instantly make you want to fake a phone call, look busy, or suddenly pretend you’ve joined a vow of silence. Questions like:
- “So, when are you getting married?”
- “What are your salary expectations?”
- And the most dangerous of them all: “How often do you walk or run?”
Why? Because the answer is never sexy. Nobody has ever said, “Oh, I casually jog 10K every morning while my six-pack abs hum the national anthem.”
The truth is always tragic: “Umm… does running late to office count?”
But here’s the twist—before anyone labels me “fat,” I’d like to present Exhibit A: science says the human body is 70% water. That means when I jiggle, it’s not fat. It’s a mini tsunami. When I sit, it’s not belly folds—it’s reservoir engineering.
So technically, I’m not overweight. I’m overwatered.
Let’s deep dive (pun intended) into this aquatic truth, while answering the oh-so-serious question: How often do I walk or run?
Spoiler alert: not often enough to dry up, but just enough to keep the flood moving.
The Science of Being Flooded
You know how fitness magazines scream “You’re made of stardust”? Wrong. I’m made of floodwater with Wi-Fi access.
Let’s break down the truth:
- Belly ? underground water tank.
- Double chin ? bonus reservoir for drought years.
- Love handles ? safety dams in case of overflow.
- Thighs ? two inflated floatation devices.
Now, when I walk fast, it’s basically like shaking a 20-liter Bisleri can. Every step creates turbulence. You don’t hear footsteps—you hear “slosh slosh slosh.”
Even scientists agree. A totally real (not fake at all, trust me) study says:
- 97% of treadmill users quit not because of laziness, but because they felt like leaking pipelines.
- 3 out of 5 people who claim to be “fit” are secretly just better at hiding their floods with black T-shirts.
- And water retention? Please. That’s just nature’s way of saying, “Congratulations, you’re officially a human dam.”
So the next time someone says “lose weight,” just tell them: “No bro, I’m retaining floodwater for global warming emergencies.”
Walking – The Slow Tsunami
Let’s face it: walking is exercise lite. It’s like gymming’s poor cousin.
Yes, it has benefits: it’s low impact, anyone can do it, and you can still gossip while walking. But in India, walking is more like a competitive sport among uncles in tracksuits.
You’ll spot them in parks:
- Speed-walking with arms flailing like airplane wings.
- Whispering “one more round” but secretly counting how many samosas they’ve burned.
- Competing against other uncle walkers like it’s the Olympics.
Me? I once walked 5 km straight. People clapped. Motivation skyrocketed. Then I confessed I did it only to find the nearest pani puri stall.
Let’s analyze walking benefits—with honesty:
- “Walking reduces stress” ? unless you walk past a momo stall.
- “Walking burns calories” ? technically true, but one gulab jamun can undo 10,000 steps.
- “Walking improves blood circulation” ? only because your body panics, thinking, “Why are we moving? Did the fridge catch fire?”
Conclusion? Walking is nice. But calling it “fitness” is like calling Maggi “gourmet dining.”
Running – The Flash Flood
Running is basically your body’s way of panicking at high speed.
The first minute feels glorious: wind in your hair, motivational music blasting, you imagining yourself in a Nike ad.
By the second minute, you’re gasping like a goldfish out of water.
By the third minute, you’re on Google: “nearest ambulance service.”
And yet, people romanticize it. Marathon runners are worshipped. But think logically:
If running was so great, why do they hand out water every two kilometers? Because even runners know—we’re just moving floods.
Also, running is unfair.
- Thin people run ? they look like gazelles.
- Flooded people run ? neighbors file tsunami warnings.
Even treadmills don’t help. It’s like paying to run in the same spot while staring at yourself suffering in a mirror. Basically, it’s a paid panic attack.
Gym – Where Water Meets Sweat
The gym is the ultimate irony: people pay money to lift things, sweat buckets, and then brag about it online.
My trainer screams: “One more rep!”
Me: “If I do, I’ll evaporate, bro.”
Everything in the gym revolves around water:
- Water bottles are fashion accessories.
- Sweat is just our flood system overflowing.
- “Hydration” is basically us recycling ourselves.
And then there are mirrors. Why do gyms have so many mirrors? Nobody wants to see their face during burpees. That’s trauma.
Some motivational gym quotes need an upgrade:
- Old: “No pain, no gain.”
- New: “Be the flood you want to see in the world.”
Home Workouts – Hydrocardio™
Who needs gyms when you can invent Hydrocardio™?
The rules are simple:
- Drink 2 liters of water.
- Wait 20 minutes.
- Sprint to the bathroom like Usain Bolt.
Repeat this 5 times. Congratulations—you’ve completed the world’s most natural HIIT workout.
Other home workouts include:
- Lifting 20-liter water cans = biceps day.
- Chasing your toddler/dog around = cardio.
- Running when the delivery guy calls = sprint training.
Best part? Free, eco-friendly, and no monthly subscription.
Diet – Because Flood Needs Fuel
Let’s be honest. Diet is the biggest scam in fitness.
- Trainers say: “Eat clean, stay lean.”
- My brain says: “Eat pizza, stay happy.”
Flood-friendly foods exist. Watermelon? Already 90% water. Eating it is like adding water to water. It’s floodception.
Cucumber? Basically edible bottled water.
Funny weight-loss hacks:
- Put a mirror on your fridge door. Instant guilt cardio.
- Replace rice with cauliflower rice. Then cry into a real rice plate.
- Stop eating at 8 pm. Or do what I do: stop eating at 8 pm Indian Standard Time, but resume at 8:15 pm Nepal Standard Time.
Life Lessons from the Flood
Here’s what I’ve realized:
- Don’t fear fat. Embrace the flood.
- Don’t say bloated. Say buoyant.
- Don’t call it chubby. Call it hydraulically gifted.
Fitness is not about abs. It’s about vibes. And if your vibe is “human dam,” rock it.
Conclusion: Answering the Dangerous Question
So, how often do I walk or run?
Enough to:
- Keep my blood flowing.
- Keep my fridge stocked.
- And keep the flood gates moving.
I’m not fat. I’m not lazy.
I’m simply water-efficient.
Next time someone asks, don’t be ashamed. Smile, sip water dramatically, and say:
? “I don’t jog—I slosh.”