I realize that all my summer postcards have the same structure. There is a threat of some kind: boredom, the beef in me, vertigo. I take up exercise. It always involves movement: cycling, running, swimming, even paddling. The exercise pushes the fear away. The threat lingers but it remains on the horizon. Though the threat does not disappear, I feel safe. Or like in a comic book. As if I were a superhero armed with an atomic shield, a shadowy sphere around me, which makes me invulnerable.

There may be various kinds of explanations.

Neuroscience. While we exercise, the brain releases endorphins, a kind of homemade opium, which makes us immune to fear. It was a good thing for our ancestors (you know, the old Human, dressed up in leather pelts, holding a chipped stone). The beast that suddenly appeared behind the bush triggered fear. Human ran away. Human made the right decision. So the endorphins kill the fear, and make Human feel better. Then Human can run longer and with a clear head so as to think of what to do next.

Or psychoanalysis.

In any case, I am not really interested in these explanations. I am not saying that they are wrong, nor that they cannot be useful. But they miss the point, or the right level. Psychoanalysis as neuroscience reduces phobias to an underlying mechanism. Whereas my aim is to play with phobias: tell a story so that the beast becomes harmless. Tell a story from a first-person point-of-view: how do phobic objects appear? Can phobias be resolved on this same plane, coaxing the beasts through stories or rearranging an equilibrium between cosmic elements – air, fire, earth, water – if, as Bachelard believes, dread comes from a disruption in this equilibrium between the elements? So, phenomenologically, how does exercise deal with the threat?

There may be several factors.

Breathing. Running, for instance, keeps the breathing steady. The rhythm of the feet takes hold of the whole body. The body can no longer give way to panic. It simply cannot incarnate the fear. The fear remains around but it can no longer take hold of my body.

An iron body. If only I could have an iron body, like the armor of the knight or the shell of the crab, but flexible and perfectly adjusted to my skin. This iron body would protect me from any threat. Even that of emptiness. The threat would simply bump against my muscly stomach.

But then I do not need to confront the threat for I am running away, or cycling, or swimming, or even paddling. The truth is, I am pretty slow. But, after awhile, I forget that I am slow. Sometimes. When my feet feel light. Then I could run forever and outrun any beast, whether it has two, four, six, eight, a thousand legs. Even if it has no legs, and is nothing, is the Nothing, for I have wings attached to my feet, and I could fly if necessary.

However, it is not that the threat has disappeared. It has receded on the horizon, but it waits for me. It knows that I will stop eventually.

Exercise is not enough.