Activity

When the spring 2021 Ivy League season was canceled, student-athletes had to grapple with being stripped of a part of their identity. For many, the cancellation meant the loss of another season, and for seniors, it meant the premature ending of their collegiate athletic careers.

It grows taller each day. Whenever I glance to the right side of my desk, it reminds me that my agenda today is very different than it was eight years ago—when I was preparing for my Ph.D. studies. I had a four-year hiatus in England. I worked with the foremost research group in my field (oxygen uptake kinetics, a discipline under the umbrella of "exercise physiology"). Prior to that, I made it a point to devote time each day to reading articles that would prepare me for the challenge ahead. However, I began publishing this research myself and returned home to teach. I no longer had time to keep up with this practice. Consequently, the stack of articles that I'd love to read keeps growing as I prepare lectures, grade papers, and occasionally do some writing. I yearn for an opportunity to make a dent in that stack. I sometimes fantasize about a day where I might lie in bed for all my waking hours and simply read. Of course, this is unlikely. But a funny thing happened a few weeks back. I woke up and felt under the weather. My wife had been ill with a 24-hour virus the preceding week, and I had a feeling I was following suit. A few hours later, my fears were confirmed. My temperature soared. I recognized that I wouldn't be able to go to work today. In all likelihood, I wouldn't even be getting out of bed. I slept for a while but eventually awoke and wound up staring at the ceiling for an hour. It was the perfect opportunity to start tackling those articles, but I had no interest. Eventually, I got my iPod. I could have listened to the weekly science show that I download. I rarely have time to listen to the six months' worth of these recordings, which reflects an electronic version of the article stack on my desk. But instead, I played "Vortex" for five hours. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't waste five minutes playing that game. But with compromised physical function, it was the only thing that appealed to me in that mental state. It was as if my body was saying, "We're in this together, mind. If I'm going down, you're coming along for the ride!" The aforementioned is consistent with "mens sana in corpore sano," a Latin quotation that implies that a sound mind depends on a healthy body. But one man's experience pales in comparison to a growing body of research that lends credence to this theory. For example, Timothy Buchman et al. studied older individuals without dementia and found that total daily physical activity positively affected level of cognition, annual rate of cognitive decline and, ultimately, the risk of developing Alzheimer's Disease. On the other end of the spectrum, Terence Dwyer et al. found associations between scholastic performance and both physical activity and fitness in children ages 7-15. Although correlation does not confirm causation, this is consistent with the notion that children who are more active on the playground helps them function in the classroom. Finally, a recent Gallup poll that assessed exercise habits in Americans found that least-educated respondents comprised the most sedentary demographic segment. This is generally forwarded as evidence that the health curriculum in school teaches healthy exercise habits. But a chicken/egg provocateur might argue that those who have been physically active throughout their lives are likely to become more educated as their years pass. "Mens sana in corpore sano" suggests that the body "wears the pants." But rest assured, the mind can take charge when it puts its "mind" to it. For example, it is well established that highly-trained athletes can fall victim to overtraining syndrome due to insufficient recovery; repercussions include both physical and psychological detriments. However, while excessive physical stress has long been considered the cause of this condition, Esther Nederhof et al. explains recent findings implicating the additive effect of physical and psychological elements. For example, a sudden increase in anxiety can amplify the risk of becoming overtrained even though the endurance of physical load remains the same (i.e., at a level that had been manageable). "Corpore sano in mens sana," therefore, appears every bit as appropriate. A mind cannot be productive without adequate quarters where it can function. And a body is but a hollow shell if it is devoid of viable intellect. Anyone who attempts to optimize performance of either of these aspects of our being should appreciate this synergistic relationship between mind and body. Consequently, regardless of whether you aspire for an Olympic goal medal or to be class valedictorian, you should dedicate part of each day to physical betterment and part to intellectual challenge. This doesn't mean you must run a marathon and write an opus before your day is complete. But if you take a small step toward satisfying each criterion before you retire each evening, the cumulative effect will be substantial. And to practice what I preach, I will read just one page of one of those articles tomorrow... after I go to the gym. The author is a professor of movement science and education at Teachers College. To respond to this piece, or to submit an op-ed, contact opinion@columbiaspectator.com

Post-"Paranormal Activity" saga, our generation is no stranger to somnambulant scares. But "The Sleepwalker," the debut work of Norwegian director Mona Fastvold, is unquestionably smarter than that, and smarter still than most run-of-the-mill thrillers. At its best, the film is taut with restrained psychological drama, but like the sleepy, creepy character for which the film is named, "The Sleepwalker" ultimately proves too feeble and disoriented to stand on its own feet.

As students, our lives are very stationary. We sit in classes taking notes, sit in Butler writing papers or finishing problem sets, and sit in 1020 on the weekends pretending the rest doesn't matter. For many, our only consistent form of exercise comes from rushing to and fro campus buildings. Those who are regularly active are viewed either with envy or awe. And yet, though Columbia's constantly closed lawns aren't encouraging, we are required to exercise our bodies as well as our minds. Whether by learning a new sport in P.E., mentally destressing on the treadmill, or fraternizing with teammates, physical activity is undoubtedly one of the factors that shapes our Columbia education.

It's the 2015 Class Formal today! Get your fancy dress on and grab your best clip-on tie because the class of 2015 is going to dance the night away to classy hits like the "Harlem Shake" and "Ignition." What else is getting Columbia excited today?   Read this: Housing costs have increased from 2.5 to 5.3 percent over the last five years, but why haven't we heard about this? Know this: Let's be honest here. If we're not slouching in lecture, we're sitting in a dining hall or we're lying on our beds watching our favorite TV show (see below). Opinion explores the tension between our education and physical activity (or lack thereof). Here's more: Chancellor Agard catches us up on our favorite life-ruiner show "Game of Thrones" before the second episode of Season Three airs on Sunday.

We've all heard the horror stories about McBain. We've heard about the beer odor that seems to be a part of the building's atmosphere. We've heard about the endless noise from the parties, the unceasing fire trucks, and the behemoths disguised as kids at the daycare next door. We've heard about the cockroaches that are big enough to be tenants. But when have we heard about all the good aspects of McBain? McBain has a lot to offer, if you are willing to look past the shoddy outward appearance. Yes, indeed—McBain is the Susan Boyle of Columbia dorms. Lets never forget these three reasons to say, "Thank you, Mcbain":more 1. Less distraction when studying. I am no stranger to procrastination.  It seems that as deadlines approach, my desire to start that essay or problem set goes out the window. I open my laptop and immediately open tabs for Facebook, Twitter, TMZ (don't judge), and every other possible distraction. Luckily for me, the Internet connection in my room is almost nonexistent. As I open each of the tabs, I get my good friend, the Google Chrome dinosaur telling me that the internet connection has been lost. This means I can't Skype with my family and see their almost foreign faces, I can't check my Columbia Health messages to make sure that the mysterious mark on my left arm is just a mole, and I can't check my account balance to make sure my identity wasn't stolen by that guy that returned my wallet after a day. No useless distractions. Only homework. Thanks, McBain.

Too often when we think of "exercise," we immediately conjure up the image of the tyrannical gym with neat rows of treadmills, ellipticals, stair masters and other devices of torture. The fascistic spaces of a gym terrify the uninitiated—weight machines with their Goldbergian complexity of plates and wires. Levers and hinges sit like dormant iron beasts waiting for the unsuspecting to perch in their waiting jaws. Hellish contraptions bear down upon the feeble body, challenging the user to tear fibers of muscles and to drench himself or herself in sadistic sweat. Those who attempt to seek refuge in the simple geometry of the freeweights—bars and plates and dumbbells of various sizes—are quickly disappointed, as the knowledge of proper technique remains as elusive as the Golden Fleece. You try to hoist the heavy load above your head and pray that you have judged your strength correctly. The drab colors, fluorescent lighting, and acidic culture of Lululemon zealots and whey protein addicts give the gym, especially Dodge Fitness Center, the overall attractiveness of the purgatory into which you fittingly descend. The warmth of the sun disappears behind walls of dreary concrete. This demonic vision of the gym has a monopoly on our conception of physical activity, especially in a city and on a campus where spaces for gleeful frolicking are tragically limited. With this prevailing image, it is understandable that many people exhibit a reluctance to prioritize "physical activity" as part of their Columbia experience. The importance for exercise can be a nagging thing, imposing its ugly truth in bouts of breathlessness when ascending the stairs of Hamilton, in the strain of buttoning a once trusty pair of jeans, in the lethargy injected by the snooze button and the self-assessment spurred by the gleaming gods and goddesses on the covers of our favorite magazines. The equation of physical activity seems to demand that one subject himself to the devil's devices if he or she wishes to attain any semblance of a "sound body." And yet, it could be said that physical activity simply has an "image problem." Maybe with a bit of re-programming on the basis of a good public relations campaign, we could all seek to incorporate more physical activity into our lives. The problem with the gym-centric image of physical activity is that it misses out on so much of what physical activity really entails. The subjection of the self to the tortures of the lat pulldown is almost certainly the exception to physical exercise and not the rule. What we ought to focus on is that physical activity often entails participation in some sort of social project or event. As human beings, we very rarely put our bodies to work in the solitary manner of the gym. More likely, we are exerting ourselves alongside fellow men and women. We play team sports that approximate the way we used to hunt. Event setup mimics how we used to prepare campsites in the Ice Age. We migrate like nomadic tribes across campus and the city. We have sex the way we have always had sex. None of these modes of activity are anything like what happens in the gym. And yet, they all serve the same function of putting the body in action. This kind of physical activity—the kind we too often overlook—is the real sort that strengthens the mind. Teamwork and social interaction, as mediated by some shared physical exertion, is going to do more for the mind than any session in the seventh circle of Dodge. Perhaps then, the whole "sound body, sound mind" mantra can be enacted if we think about physical activity in a different way. We ought to seek not just the activity itself. That's a depressing end to pursue. Rather the whole participatory aspect that goes along with it. Teamwork! Intercourse! What wonderful ends to which physical activity is just the means. Go volunteer at a thrift store and help unload deliveries, play soccer with your friends and get some sun, join a band of roving minstrels and walk the length of Manhattan bringing good cheer. And perhaps, once you have done these things and are in slightly better shape or in a better place of mind, you can venture into Dodge and run a few laps and lift a few weights, squeezing in some extra activity in your schedule. At least this way, you'll be able to confidently answer the most important question of our time: "Do you even lift, bro?" Esfandyar Batmanghelidj is a Columbia College junior majoring in Middle Eastern, South Asian and African Studies. He contributes regularly to The Canon. To respond to this piece, or to submit an op-ed, contact opinion@columbiaspectator.com

According to Wikipedia, the god of all knowledge, "mens sana in corpore sano" is part of a poem called "The Vanity of Human Wishes," written by Juvenal. I don't mention this to bore you. On the contrary, it is actually relevant to what I'm saying. You should read the whole poem. It'll be the shortest reading you have all year. Juvenal tells us that a healthy mind and body "can endure any kind of toil." We, as Columbia students, are uniquely cushioned from certain harsh realities of life. Yet we are simultaneously exposed to never-before-seen challenges. Forget drone wars and global warming. Forget even the supposedly simple concept of dating has turned into a debate of "hooking up" vs. "hanging out" vs. "dating" vs. "in a relationship" vs. "I'm your girlfriend ... right?" And this doesn't even consider more complexities like sexual identities, orientations, and preferences. Though it's not cleaning stables or stealing fleeces, all this crazy emotional uncertainty is running through our heads. Meanwhile, we're trying to write a 10-page paper, do readings and problem sets, learn a foreign language for no reason other than someone else says so, juggle lab research, and interview for internships, play a sport, and manage three clubs. At some point, all of these words and responsibilities start to whirl together faster and faster and faster as we realize we're only 20 years old and—oh god!—we're going to explode in 3... 2...1. Boom. The point is, a lot of people would settle for just being able to endure Columbia's toils right now. Forget "any kind of toil." And even though Juvenal stresses us out by talking about toiling and woes, he gives us the answer, too: "What I commend to you, you can give to yourself." And that's where physical activity comes in. If, as Juvenal ends his poem, the goal is "a life of peace," let me tell you about mine. I have my stressed days, of course. But all in all, I think I'm doing pretty chill. For me, that path started with a very special high school teacher who prioritized her students' mental health above how much European history she could shove in our heads. She was the first to tell me it was OK to take a personal day, the first to say I should put my own well-being above pure accomplishment. Her advice followed me to Columbia. I never used to be into exercise. I was always the kid trying to ditch gym class. But now, I'm on the varsity archery team and I moonlight in the Brazilian jiu-jitsu club during our off-season. I go running in Riverside Park because, even though it hurts and burns and sucks, every worry disappears. When I'm in a fight for martial arts, it's a moment of clarity. I don't have the luxury of thinking about 18 different things at once. There are clear and obvious priorities. I can forget about the responsibilities of life and focus on plotting the demise of my opponent or the freedom of flying along the river while running. And when that moment's over, when I'm ready to pick that load back up, it feels a little lighter. This is not a new discovery. Every gym junkie ever has felt that same high. The administration's figured it out, too: Physical education is a requirement in the Core. But even though Columbia can try and force you to lift to its heart's content, Ke$ho's not going to chase you down after graduation and make you get off the couch. Exercise shouldn't be like learning a language. Doing it because someone else tells us to is not going to get us very far. Juvenal says that a peaceful life is within our reach, and that happiness comes from within. Learning to put our own well-being above studying in a library for 18 hours straight is part of an education, too, one beyond the Core Curriculum. It's for the sake of learning that some things are worth staying up until 3 a.m. for, and some things aren't. It's about knowing your limits and accepting them. It's about learning enough that, hopefully, at the end of the day, you can endure any kind of toil with a sound mind and a sound body. The author is a Columbia College junior majoring in economics psychology and is co-captain of the varsity archery team. She is an editor for The Lion. To respond to this piece, or to submit an op-ed, contact opinion@columbiaspectator.com