It’s 8:30 a.m. as I write this. Finny and I got up and went for our walk this morning. We did two more miles, and it took us about 45 minutes. Now, I know that’s not very fast. All the stuff I read about walking for exercise is that you need to walk fast. Four miles an hour, at least. Get that heart pumping. Heh.
Well, I’ll get there. Today, I even jogged a little. A hundred steps, then I walked and caught my breath, then another hundred. And so on. I was still ridiculously slow, but … I jogged. And it felt good.
I’m not telling you this to brag – it’s hardly bragging material. When I jog the whole two miles, then I’ll brag. But I’m pleased and I wanted to share my triumph over my lazy self.
I like the early morning. As summer approaches and descends, it will be just about the only time of the day I’ll be able to get up enough gumption to go walking at all, as I’m one of those people who wants to curl up in a cool, indoor corner when it’s hot outside. Heat makes me sleepy and sluggish and cranky. And I don’t look good in shorts and sleeveless shirts anymore. Uncovering my blumphiness in public embarrasses me.
So as I contemplated my continuing effort to move my butt yesterday, I decided I’d better go for an early start and try to make it a habit. I went to bed earlier than I usually do last night – and I set my alarm to go off at the crack of dawn.
Why, I wonder, do I need to spend so much time talking myself into this fitness thing? I know for a fact that it’s nothing but good for me, and I feel good mentally and physically when I do it. I’m not competing with anyone. If I don’t take a long walk, the only one I’ll disappoint is Finny, since the little guy is always up for a good walk – and he can’t go without me. Maybe it goes back to my childhood, when I was just about the most un-athletic child on the face of the Earth. I loved to play – and that included running and jumping, roller skating and biking – but I hated PE in school, where there were always kids who ran faster and jumped higher, and who did just about everything better than I could when it had anything to do with structured outdoor games and athletic skills.
Of course, I could read a lot better than a lot of those kids. And I could draw better than any of them. And man, I could leave them in my imaginary dust when it came to telling stories.
Somehow that didn’t count when it was time for me to catch a softball. Or to hit one.
Anyway, two miles seems about right for me, for now. I’m tired by the end and ready to stop. As a result of shortening the distance I walked, I was only slightly muscle-sore this morning, and there was none of that weird joint looseness. So I’m good with it. But I’ll add more distance as the weeks pass, and I know I’ll get faster. It’s completely doable.