There was a
time many years ago when I became fascinated by the way people walk in ordinary
circumstances, that is, on flat, stable ground.
Something that we take for granted, and what appears to be absolutely
simple, is actually absurdly complicated.
Lifting one foot, moving it forward, and placing it down in
synchronicity with another foot doing exactly the opposite is a triumph of
muscular control and planning.
And then
there’s the business of turning. Human perambulation performed in a straight
line ahead is difficult enough, but the act of turning corners simply boggles
the mind. Have you ever thought how you turn corners with such apparent ease?
Just think about how many muscles have to be moved in the correct order, and
the balance that has to be kept, and the furniture that has to be missed.
Going around
corners is theoretically impossible. I mean, say you wish to turn to the right.
The computer that are you pleased to call your brain immediately goes into
panic mode. It can hardly get the orders out fast enough.
What you
have to do is (a) take longer strides with your left leg than your right leg,
or (b) take shorter strides with your right leg than your left leg. This makes
the two legs move at different speeds. The left leg, in fact, tries to overtake
the right leg, quite forgetting that it is joined to the right leg at the
trunk. If it were allowed to continue in this foolish way it would eventually
sever itself from your body and you would fall over for want of a prop on the
left side; but fortunately we have in our trunks nerves that sense pain.
It is the
feeling of pain that makes us jump slightly into the air during a turn, to even
the pressure building up on the legs and trunk, and in the situation I’ve been
describing, a jump to the right is indicated.
A jump to
the left would bring instant disaster in the form of the severance of both legs
from the trunk, thus leaving nothing to separate the buttocks from the ground.
The brain
never makes this mistake, of course, and this in itself is quite surprising,
for the movements of the muscles of the left leg are controlled by the right
side of the brain, and the movements of the right leg by the left side of the
brain.
Thus, before
any turn can even be contemplated, the brain has to sit down and ask itself
which side of itself it has to use to move which leg.
And not only
that. It has to work out which muscle to move in which foot, and I surely don’t
need to tell you how complicated that can be. You’ve got real trouble if you
send a message rushing down the spinal cord, addressed to the short flexor of
the great toe, telling it to contract quickly, when in fact you meant to send
it to gastrocnemius muscle in the calf. If you don’t fall flat on your face it
will be a miracle.
Now all this
simply concerns making a turn left or right.
Consider the added difficulty caused to a sailor’s brain by a rolling
deck, where it’s necessary to walk with one leg higher than the other at one
moment, and that same leg lower than the other at the next. Finally, try to imagine what’s going on in that poor brain when a sailor walking along a rolling deck
suddenly decides to make a turn.
On second
thought, maybe you shouldn’t try to imagine it.
There’s only so much a human brain can take.
Today’s Thought
They wha canna walk right are sure to come
to wrang,
Creep awa’, my bairnie, creep afore ye gang.— James Ballentine, Creep Afore Ye Gang.
Tailpiece
A cute blond
entered the animal rescue center. She said to the young man behind the counter,
“I want a pet.”“Me, too,” said the man, “but the boss is awfully strict. How about we meet after work?”
(Drop by
every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
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