From that moment on
"Keep the faculty of effort alive in you by a little gratuitous exercise every day. That is, by systematically ascetic or heroic in little unnecessary points, do every day or two something for no other reason than that you would rather not do it, so that when the hour of dire need draws nigh, it may find you not unnerved and untrained to stand the test [sic]." — William James, 1842-1910
On January 1, at precisely 0900 hours, the barred gate of cell 63 slowly slid open. That was the signal the cell block officer used to let me know that it was time for my three hours of exercise out in the larger cell block area. (This was not one of the two days per week that I am allowed out of doors onto the exercise yard.)
I walked five feet to the staircase that stands in front of the cell. It has 14 treads. On the first morning of the third millennium, I spent 32 minutes walking up and down that staircase.
It was not something that I really wanted to do but rather one of the many things that I must do so as to remain physically fit, lest I become an easy mark for a would-be bully's test. After all, I am not getting any younger and, in prison, a man who cannot hold his own is destined to hold someone else's — if you catch my drift. What you do not defend with vigour will be taken.
While walking that staircase it occurred to me that a pet-shop hamster on a treadmill has much better exercise accommodations than most of the men, women and children doing time in Georgia's prisons. Then I thought, how ironic it is that humankind is embarking upon this third millennium and alas, amid all the talk of "progress", pet rodents in cages are more highly regarded by society than people in prison.
So, before many of you get too far into the new year, perhaps you should take a walk past the nearest pet shop, see the hamster's cell and brand new treadmill, then take a visitor's walk through your local prison. From that moment on, I can guarantee you, the word "progress", if you are honest, will leave a very bad taste in your mouth.
By Brandon Astor Jones