Learning to Like Love the Walk

My online training log for the month looks pretty pathetic.

It's also misleading.

It would appear, at most, I work out two or three times a week at the gym, and that's it.

In truth, almost every morning I get up, grab some tea and toast, grab my jog bra and shoes and head into the dark to walk the streets of my neighborhood. I have long hated walking, mainly because it hurt my hips and it hurt my pride. But lately I've learned to love the walk.

I don't have to panic if I suddenly need to pee.
I don't have to worry as much about my wardrobe.
I don't have to replace my shoes as often.
I don't fall (as much, anyway).
I don't have to worry about bra support (as much, anyway).
I don't obsess about time lost to detours and dead ends.

I also get plenty more time to watch the world turn over for another day, to work up a light sweat, to check out my rich neighbors' illuminated interiors and to really think about the way I move my entire body (which, by the way, took care of that hip pain that plagued me for years).

I stupidly thought recording my walk miles while "in rehab" would pollute my accumulated running miles for the year. And now, now that I am about to start running again? All I can think is how much I already miss those walks that I let go without giving them their proper due.