A Mile in My Shoes


It’s a good thing I possess a modicum of persistence, because otherwise, I would have taken the fact that I got caught in the sprinklers on the first day of my renewed walking regimen as some kind of sign.

I actually got into a pretty good groove near the end of last summer, walking at least a mile or so before work and up to five miles or so on the weekends.  I wasn’t seeing a whole lot of immediate results, but I was feeling pretty good and generally liked being a little more active.  Then, well, life stuff happened, and it got easier to sleep that extra thirty or forty-five minutes every morning, or get up and flop in front of the computer and tell myself I just didn’t have the time.  And then the holidays came along, and oh, I was too busy, it was too cold, blah blah blah.  Combine that with the usual flood of bad food Thanksgiving and Christmas throw at you, and a lot of the good work from the summer went right out the window.

So Monday I got up early, strapped the sneakers on, popped on the headphones and headed out the door.  And I wasn’t five minutes out when the sprinklers decided it was a good time to water the sidewalk.  Now I know they need to grow, I get that, I’m just saying the timing could have been a little better.  It definitely provided some motivation though; I’m not entirely sure where that water comes from, and I’m definitely sure I didn’t want to find out. So my walk immediately turned into a game of Frogger, dodging the sprinklers with varying degrees of success. But the main thing is that it would have been easy to throw up my hands and decide it just wasn’t meant to be that morning, and instead I pressed on.  Not an epic victory in the grand scheme of things, but I’ll take it.

I’ve also started using the RunKeeper app.  Granted, it’s more like WalkKeeper for me, but my feet know what my feet can handle.  I figure if I can turn it into a kind of game, I’ll obsess over it and stick with it.  There actually is an app that turns it into a game, but it involves pretending there’s a bomb you have to find using your phone’s GPS. And the last thing I need is to get guided into a strange neighborhood with my phone pinging out something about a bomb being nearby.  I mean, I saw Zero Dark Thirty, I know Homeland Security has a hell of a weight loss program, but I really don’t want to move to Cuba.

Now I’ve got two days under my belt.  It’s not much, but it’s a start.  Provided I can keep reclaimed ground water and possible suspicion of terrorist activity from making staying in bed seem like the better option.

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