When I can, I always take the stairs. It's usually vacant, while the escalator is packed.
I used to work on the second floor. My colleagues would all push the button for the elevator, and wait, wait, wait. I'd be at my desk before they reached the 2nd floor. (Some of them were jocks.)
In my 20s, I worked a stint on the 6th floor. I'd run up the stairs to try and beat the elevator. I'd poop out on the 5th and have to walk the last flight.
I don't understand why I am the only such person. It's just pure joy to run up and down the stairs. One day I won't be able to anymore, and that will make me sad.
>I don't understand why I am the only such person. It's just pure joy to run up and down the stairs. One day I won't be able to anymore, and that will make me sad.
A friend of mine when I worked at Boeing advised me to always take the elevator, because one is only allocated so many heartbeats, and he wanted to conserve his.
That line of logic to me was always just absolute wild.
Like, yeah, eventually you will die, so yes, the number of heartbeats you'll have is finite. But it's not like you get some limited allocation and when you consume them all, you're toast.
The reality is the opposite which is counterintuitive to those folks: The more heartbeats you use, the more you get. At least, that's true if your extra heartbeat usage is from aerobic exercise, not just being unhealthy and having a high resting heart rate.
I used to work on the second floor. My colleagues would all push the button for the elevator, and wait, wait, wait. I'd be at my desk before they reached the 2nd floor. (Some of them were jocks.)
In my 20s, I worked a stint on the 6th floor. I'd run up the stairs to try and beat the elevator. I'd poop out on the 5th and have to walk the last flight.
I don't understand why I am the only such person. It's just pure joy to run up and down the stairs. One day I won't be able to anymore, and that will make me sad.