Every now and then I get a bee in my bonnet about the whole, ya know …
Issue of Exercise. I can’t emphasize this strongly enough, folks. Therefore. Let me repeat myself.
EVERY NOW AND THEN.
So. When the weather began to turn cooler The Husband and I began a Discourse on Outdoor Exercising. I realize this statement would imply that I actually have an indoor exercise plan which would be … well … a Big Fat Lie. The Husband, who’s mightily focused, has such an Indoor Plan. Me? Not so much. I believe I’ve told y’all before … I HATE TO SWEAT.
However. As summer waned and the mercury slithered ever downward I sensed my House of Excuses was beginning to crumble. Now that it’s December, I GOT NUTTIN’.
So. I am pleased to report that, as of yesterday, I have officially completed a third day of walking.
THIRD DAY OF WALKING.
Did y’all get that? THIRD DAY … Okay. I’ll stop.
Lest you be of the misguided belief that walking is not considered Real Exercise, please note that I am a very uncoordinated individual. Walking is a relatively safe mode of movement that requires no particular skills. I am of the firm opinion that the bi-pedal adaptation of humans coupled with a slow gait was designed specifically with yours truly in mind.
Now. I’d say you can’t get hurt walking, however, I’ve actually hoofed it right into a pick-up truck on one of my excursions. A parked pick-up truck. I wish I could say I was kidding.
About a year or so ago I was traipsing down the street, engrossed in babbling to The Husband and gesticulating wildly like the Italian I am not. Dadgum it if the fender wasn’t right there for the taking.
Mark the experience down as VERY STARTLING.
After that insanely Bad Experience that buggered up my knee for a few days, I haven’t exercised. Yes. It really doesn’t take much to derail me. But. This weekend we committed to Outdoor Exercising and oh gosh, what fun we’ve had.
Winter walking presents a bevy of considerations, not the least of which is the issue of keeping warm. Having not worn a hat of any sort in let’s say a gatrillion years plus one, I was rather less than enthused to begin the barbaric practice.
IT MESSES UP MY HAIR.
And when I put it on Youngest Son laughed and said … OUT LOUD … ‘Mom, you look like a dork!’. Wow. Thank you for your continued support. This from a kid who wears odd color clothing together unless directed to the contrary. Geesh.
Yeah. That was mean.
BUT HE STARTED IT.
Directly following the Hat that Makes Mom look like a dork statement, there came a commentary about the shoes. I have a very white, very new, very-much-not-used pair of white running shoes. Let’s pause for a moment and imagine yours truly buying pair of running shoes. Y’all can’t, can you? It was quite a momentous day, I assure you. A day filled with Promise and Good Intentions.
However. I am not a lace-up shoes kinda gal. My closet is full of shoes sans laces. Running shoes with laces tend to bother me. I’m either tying them too tight so they don’t slip or not tying them tight enough and I get blisters. And. If I tie them too tight, which is the way I tend to roll, after about 3 miles my feet are numb.
I SWEAR I’M NOT BEING DRAMATIC HERE.
Completely numb. It’s difficult, if not entirely impossible, to walk when you can’t feel your extremities. Try it sometime. Then please take a moment to drop me a postcard with your observations.
So in lieu of the laced shoes, I opt for a nifty pair of Dr. Scholls suede slip-on athletic shoes. Being a color one would describe as taupe, Color Stupid Son, thought they were hysterically funny with my walking outfit. Bad Hat. Bad Shoes.
My fervent hope is that it rains and/or snows alot this season thereby rendering the continuation of my Walking Endeavors utterly futile.
But. That’s a secret.