Walk This Way
Walking out my front door, I take the three steps down, make my way down the driveway. Sometimes I turn left, but usually I go right. Each morning, Monday through Friday anyway, I rise out of my comfy bed at 6 a.m., actually 5:50 but I set my clock 10 minutes ahead to fool myself, to go for a walk.
My morning walks started this winter as a way to warm up in my house that struggled to get to 63 F. I would pop in a Leslie Sansone DVD to walk and jog for about an hour each morning. While for the past year and a half I’ve been serious about walking for exercise, including walking a half marathon, I avoided early morning walkouts. I prefer to stay up late so morning usually arrives too early for me.
Although I’ve now moved to a better insulated and more energy efficient house, I still find myself rising early. Now, I take to the streets. My brain engages slower than my feet on these mornings. The feet tackle the hill on their own, the lungs pump harder as I near the top. Soon I began to take note of the magnolias in bloom, houses under remodel. I pray for people that come to mind. I think through my day, mull over stories to be written in my job as a university magazine editor.
Anywhere from two and a half to three and a half miles later, I return home awake and prepared to face the day. I’ve even had the sacrilegious thought that a morning walk may be better than coffee, but I’m not keen to give up the coffee just yet.
My pedometer shows me that I’m well on my way to putting in at least the 10,000 steps that I try to take each day. I feel ready to face whatever the day may bring. So the next morning, I rise again, lace on the tennis shoes and head out the door.