Nordic walking poles
The first time I heard of the existence of Nordic Walking was years ago during a holiday in Austria. Acquaintances from the village, where I had been many times, passed my flat daily with firm strides. Even from a distance you could see that it had done them good: they had lost many kilos.
Back in the Netherlands, the sport was quickly gaining ground here too. The Nordic walking poles were on my list for Sinterklaas, and to my great joy, I was able to call myself the proud owner of two magnificent specimens after that day. An acquaintance taught me the tricks of Nordic walking and after that I set off on my own. I don't know why, but it felt very different from what I had expected. Probably no one looked surprised, and yet I felt particularly uncomfortable. What had seemed very cool in Austria gave me the idea of being really middle-aged here. Thus, my beautiful sticks ended up in a corner.
Two years ago I went on holiday to Austria again with my family and now every tourist there suddenly seemed to be travelling with Nordic Walking sticks. From afar we heard them coming: tick, tick, tick. We joked about it, we started to find the tapping annoying, I really resolved never to get involved with those sticks again. Until this year. Together with son and daughter, I was walking in the mountains and yes, they were there again: tick, tick, tick. Again, we joked, it annoyed us when in sometimes breathless silence we heard tapping approaching again, but then came the moment when during a hike we came across a rocky spot, deeply eroded by water. This had created a wide gorge, also surrounded by countless loose stones. Jealously, we looked at a couple of hikers, equipped with Nordic Walking poles, who with some difficulty did manage to cross that gorge. We looked at the matter from all sides and came to the conclusion that without poles it would be irresponsible. There was no alternative but to turn around. That was the moment, when I decided that my poles have had their longest time under the dust. Next year they may join me: tick, tick, tick.
