Walking...

My husband jokes (at least, I think he’s joking) that there are about three days a year whose temperature satisfies me. I think he’s exaggerating—it’s probably more like five. Since my main form of exercise is walking around our lake with our dog, the other 360 days of the year are problematic.

I don’t walk every day, even though I should. And, since I walk the dog, I’ll usually blame my not walking on her. I don’t walk in the rain—she’s afraid of water, and juggling her and an umbrella are just beyond my abilities. And in the really bad heat of the summer? Well, she’s got black fur and it’s not good for her to overheat. Plus, her paws will burn on the hot pavement. In the super cold temperatures of winter, I can’t walk her when she steps outside and starts shivering. See how this works?

In reality, I probably walk about nine months of the twelve and just adjust my outerwear or timing accordingly. My Fitbit can attest to the abysmal number of steps I’ve achieved over the past six weeks or so. While it’s exciting to see the numbers increase over the year, looking at the low numbers when I’m stuck in the house is embarrassing. And no, I’m not a mall-walker.

This week is looking promising, so the dog and I ventured outside for the first time in ages. Not sure who was more excited, her or me. We didn’t go far because she just had surgery and I didn’t want her to overdo it or force me to carry her home—she’s just heavy enough to make me miserable if that happened. Even though we didn’t walk more than a few blocks, as opposed to our normal 3.5 miles, we saw several similarly minded people, most of them also walking their dogs. We all looked at each other like, “Hey, I remember you—or at least, I remember your dog!”

Hopefully we’ll get back up to speed this week and then the exercise can continue. Because in addition to feeling like a slug, the words just don’t flow as easily, even though we’re about 30 degrees colder than my ideal.

Happy almost spring!