I recently made a change in my life when it dawned on me that I would soon be celebrating another birthday. In the middle of February on a whim, one day I decided to start walking. I chose a two-mile trek close to home, and since it is within walking distance, I save on gas as well.
I completed my task and was proud of myself, having walked the two-mile journey in just under 35 minutes. I am not excessively overweight but I’ve reached a point in my life where exercise takes second place to watching an old episode of Gunsmoke on the tube. This would be an excellent way to get my heart pumping a little faster and perhaps it would increase the number of those birthdays yet to come, I thought.
I was excited about the thought of being in charge of my body and the positive way it made me feel after a good workout, so I continued walking three or four times a week when my work schedule would allow. I suppose with every endeavor in life, there are always a few burdens to bear. The first obstacle I encountered was a few dogs along the way. I soon overcame that bump in the road by carrying an old golf club, and all I had to do was show them the “meat” end of the stick, and they readily backed off.
You know, Thomson is still considered a small town by most of us where we know or “know about” most everybody we meet. When I’m on the shoulder of the road, walking in the key of lickety split, quite often a neighbor will ride by and throw up a hand as we like to do here in the South. I have discovered that the more I made my presence known, the more my friends and neighbors wondered about this new turn my body had taken. Quite frankly, people began to talk, and no, it did not hurt my feelings. It only served to amuse me as the weeks went by.
As it turned out, there were people as far away as Columbia County inquiring about my irrational behavior. One neighbor asked my son, “Is your daddy having health problems?” “Did the doctor tell him to start walking?” By now, I would occasionally make the trip twice, which amounted to four miles instead of two. All the while, I was laughing on the inside while those additional miles only served to increase the talk.
I was recently quizzed at church by a well-meaning friend and that same question came up, “Did the doctor tell you to start walking?”
I’ve decided that the next time someone asks me that, I’m going to say, “Well, he did say something about six months,” and see how quickly I get put on the Prayer List.
