When I got sober in Gstaad, I started walking to town every day. Thirty minutes downhill, toddler in pram, dog on leash. Load up groceries. Haul everything back up the hill.

I decided: this was my sport.

My Swiss grandfather understood this. He once walked most of the night—carrying his accordion—to play at a friend's wedding. Movement wasn't exercise. It was how you got things done.

Here's the paradox: wealth can buy the best fitness inputs. But it also removes the friction that makes movement stick. You don't carry your bags. You don't walk to the store. Someone else does.

Part 2 of my Health-Wealth Divide series explores how privilege secretly undermines physical activity—and what to do about it. dianaoehrli.substack.co…