Today I–along with my dog–took my husband’s car down to the local garage for an oil change; we then walked back home. It was a walk of maybe three blocks, uphill. I was winded by the time I got home. So was my poor dog.
This taught me an important lesson. I am out of shape (and so is my dog). But that’s not the lesson–I knew that. The lesson was–I need to get into shape. Not because I want to look pretty or fit into my old clothes (though that would be nice), but because if I’m going to spend a month walking around London, Paris, and Barcelona, I don’t want it to be painful. So I need to start…training.
People typically use the word ‘training’ in reference to marathons, but let’s be realistic, that’s not something I’m ever going to do. I have no desire and, more than that, I do not have the ability and I never shall. But I do have the desire to be moderately physically fit and able to enjoy a day of somewhat serious sightseeing and not have to sit down every five hundred feet to rest. I want to bound up the steps of the Eiffel Tower, to run to catch a double decker bus. I want to stroll along the Thames, the Seine, and along the Mediterranean on Rambla del Mar without wheezing, huffing or puffing. And right now, I can’t walk up my own hill in my own backyard without exerting myself. Something must be done.
I shall start walking to work tomorrow–and before any of you who do not know me in real life start to gasp, please know I live as close to work as I do to afore mentioned local garage. It is a less than fifteen minute walk each way. I drive there and back every day just the same–this could account for my out-of-shape-ness. So tomorrow begins my spring of walking to work. It should be super easy, especially tomorrow; because my husband’s car is at the garage, I won’t have a car of my own to drive even if I wanted to. But the day after tomorrow–that might be a bit of a challenge. And the day after that? I think they are calling for rain.