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Article (Journal or Newspaper)
City/County Government, Private
sector
Community Based Strategies, Outcomes
Health Care, Housing/ Homelessness
April 21, 2001
By Neal R. Peirce
An obesity epidemic has seized America. And the suspected
villain is none other than America's prized development icon
-- suburbia.
So far there's no smoking gun, no irrefutable scientific evidence
to prove that our spread-out, overwhelmingly auto-dependent
way of living is expanding our paunches -- and imperiling
our health.
"It's like global warming," says Robert Yaro, executive
director of the New York Regional Plan Assn. "There's
no conclusive proof. But there's enough strong circumstantial
evidence that we better take it seriously."
What's indisputable is that we're getting heavier -- rapidly.
Thirty percent to 50 percent of Americans, depending on how
severe the measure, are now overweight. Obesity -- defined
as roughly 30 pounds or more overweight -- swelled 60 percent
in the past decade, and now affects 22 percent of us.
One clear reason: almost a third of Americans are basically
sedentary, with little or no exercise. Almost three-quarters
of adults aren't active enough physically, according to the
federal government's Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
And now kids are falling into the same trap. A quarter of
American children aged 6 to 17 are overweight, 11 percent
seriously so, according to CDC figures. Not only have school
sports and gym programs declined, but in today's spread-out
suburbia of roaring freeways and highways, tiny percentages
walk to school.
The implications are serious. Six of every 10 overweight children
5 to 10 already have one associated biochemical or clinical
cardiovascular risk factor. Almost 80 percent of obese adults
have diabetes, high cholesterol, high blood pressure or coronary
heart disease.
So why the soaring American Fat Factor? Some people blame
couch potato tv-viewing, which is surely a factor. Others
finger Big Macs and diet in general.
But none of those, say the experts, explain the magnitude
of increased obesity in America. Something more pervasive
-- and damaging -- is at work.
I like the simple explanation of Thomas Schmid, director of
the CDC's Active Community Environments working group: "We
sit in cars. We don't walk to the store on the corner. We
ride the lawnmower instead of pushing it. We've engineered
almost any kind of work out of our lives. That's why we're
growing bigger."
Look behind most of those reasons and you find lurking an
even more persistent, effective culprit -- suburban development
styles. America's post-World War II streets and community
layouts weren't designed for people: they were designed for
automobiles.
So what did we get? Residences on curvy, dead-end streets
(often cul-de-sacs) that feed into high-volume highways leading
to segregated uses -- shopping malls, office parks, government
centers. Traditional street grids encouraged walking and biking
by facilitating shortest-possible travels between two points.
Contemporary suburban development does just the opposite.
Sidewalks are often missing. Roadways are designed for vehicular
"throughput" and make foot or bike traffic downright
dangerous.
William Dietz, the CDC's director of nutrition and physical
activity, uses his own suburban workplace as an example: "Some
of our staff is in a building 200 yards away. To get there,
I have to cross five lanes of traffic, plus hopping a guardrail
and walking across an azalea patch. That's how our environment
is designed. It's not designed to promote walking."
Small wonder government studies show that just between 1977
and 1995, trips that Americans made by walking decreased from
25 to10 percent while trips by auto rose from 84 percent to
90 percent.
There are disturbing international comparisons. In Italy,
54 percent of trips are by walking or bicycling, in Sweden
(where it's cold and dark much of the year) 49 percent. In
this gloriously hailed Land of the Free and the Brave, we
walk or cycle just 10 percent of the time.
Where's the cure? Maybe in reaching back over a century. In
the late 1800s and early 1900s, Yaro notes, modern American
city planning was pioneered by figures like Frederick Law
Olmsted who pushed for major parks in our cities on the theory
that getting people out into the fresh air and sunshine would
combat tuberculosis and rickets then prevalent in the tenements
of industrial workers. The public health and city planning
movements developed at the same time.
Just maybe, there's a parallel today-- that getting more people
out of their cars, walking and biking and reengaging an active
lifestyle, can cut back on the wave of heart diseases, diabetes
and associated diseases now afflicting this nation's people.
As long as smoking was an aesthetic issue, notes Yaro, nothing
changed. But when it became a public health issue, the public
reacted. He predicts the same now: "The correlations
are strong, the science will follow shortly. Once the recognition
sinks in -- that our patterns of mobility and development
are killing us and imperiling our kids -- we're quite capable
of forging a new public ethic about these issues."
© 2001 Washington Post Writers Group
Contact Info: Neal Peirce; npeirce@citistates.com
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Source: Neal Peirce Column; Washington
Post Newspaper
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