Tag: Walking

Legs Are Made for Walking

As a kid, I didn’t think twice about walking five miles to my friend’s house, a mile to the bus stop, or three miles down the road just to see the old paper mill still up and running.

Walking was never a dreaded chore. It was sheer enjoyment. A means of transportation. A trip around the world and back. It’s what I did.

As a single mom with no vehicle and no money to buy one, I walked to and from work, to the grocery store and the Goodwill across the busy highway. I’d put my baby in the stroller and off we’d go. Just the two of us, down the old tree-lined, cracked, broken sidewalks of Wilmington, Delaware.

I was thirty-six when I started jogging and fifty-three when I stopped. At sixty-two, I started jogging again, but not with the same commitment or enthusiasm. It soon dwindled from walking when I felt like it to not walking, period.

But I never quit thinking about how much better off I would be today, had I never quit jogging. Because, now, two years shy of turning eighty, with neuropathy and back problems, it’s tough just getting out of bed.

But, I’m not in a wheelchair, or on oxygen, and because I don’t want to be, I’m going to walk. Maybe ten minutes. Maybe an hour. Maybe three days a week, maybe four or five. Maybe, only one day. But that’s better than not doing it at all.

So yes, I walked today. Really fast because it was freezing. My fingers were on the verge of breaking, and I was a hair from calling my husband to come get me!

When a Walk Turns Frisky

The toughest part about walking is stopping what I’m doing and pushing myself out the door. But once my feet hit the driveway, I’m ready to dive into the adventures of the great outdoors.

My walks consist of pondering, talking to God, and setting my spirit free. The dishes can scream their dirty little heads off, but I can’t hear them. I don’t even know them. This is my time. My walk. And I’m not stopping till my legs fall off.

My favorite walks are on wooded trails, but since there are none close by, I walk around the neighborhood, with its wide-open areas and rolling hills, serving as pleasant reminders of the pasture it was.

One day last summer, I turned down a road and was met with a German Shepherd. He was a puppy. A big puppy, on the brink of becoming a full-grown, mean-looking beast, so I kept an eye on him as I continued walking.

I never run from a dog. Ever! I stand and face the bully, my walking sticks loaded for battle. As I continued walking, he continued barking and running around across the road. Then, like a curious cat, he ran to me and sniffed my hand. Okay. Sniffing is good. He’s not growling and flashing his teeth; he just wants to play. I hope.

Suddenly, he ran around me and jumped on my back, nearly knocking me to my knees. Frantically, I poked him in the ribs with my walking sticks, but like a stubborn bull, he wouldn’t budge.

Now I’m scared. I’m going to fall and break every bone in my body, and this beast is going to eat me alive! This is getting serious now. He’s not the playful puppy I thought he was, and I’m not the girlfriend he thought I was. Somebody is going to lose this battle, and it won’t be me!

Finally, two guys ran to my rescue, neither of whom owned the dog, but they knew who did, and the only family member that was home was parked in the middle of my back!

After much tugging and pulling, both guys managed to set me free without any bloodshed or broken bones. I continued my walk in one piece and decided to never walk down that street again!

A New Beginning

I just finished a brisk twenty-minute walk. Yay! I mention this because I stopped walking when it got so hot last summer, promising myself to start back in the fall. But, everything happened but that.

You know how it goes: I’m too busy, too tired; too not into it. I’ll do it tomorrow. A thousand tomorrows later, my walking shoes sit and cry in the closet.

Thinking about getting fit and making excuses for why I can’t only cause a guilt complex. And already there’s no more room in my brain for that! So, I pledge, not to the New Year, but to myself to get out the door and walk.

If it’s not snowing. Or raining. Or too windy. Or someone mentions shopping!