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frahulettaesSo I decided to walk to work yesterday. Yay me! I was thinking that I'd save on gas and money and I'd finally start to loose that booty that's been following me around for the last twenty odd years. All very good intentions. I figured, based on my drive, that the distance was around 3 miles which, at 20 minutes a mile, should get me there in an hour. I was stoked. I left an hour and forty minutes early so I could get coffee at work and change my clothes.
Best. Of. Intentions.
So. Reality bites. An hour into my walk, I was only a third of the way there and only had around a half an hour to get there. So, feet aching, hot, sweaty and tired, I sat down and called a cab. Twenty minutes later I was at work and all was fine. Turns out, it's more like six miles. And...I'm not an energetic, effortlessly fit, sixteen year old anymore. And...I was now at work with no car. F.U.N.
Actually, I took the bus half way home, missed my connection and walked the rest of the way.
All tolled, I managed to walk nearly five miles yesterday and feel pretty good today for it. (except for the bloody stumps that were my feet) I learned that my bike is my friend and it's going to be a while before I'm fit enough to walk. And I do plan on doing that again, eventually.
Because I like walking. For lots of reasons, not just for fitness. When I was younger, (see above), I walked everywhere. I grew up in Cupertino, which at that time, 1972-79, was pretty much still prune orchards and small farms. Walking was not only expedient, it was calming and beautiful. I would walk to Saratoga or Los Gatos and enjoy the neighborhoods and the horses and trees. I walked the Cupertino foothills and to and from my job at Buck Norrad riding stables (now long gone). And I loved it. I loved being alone and stretching my legs and my mind. And now that I'm older, I miss it.
Part of me really liked walking yesterday. Oh, sure, it was painful and exhausting. But it was also slow, and lazy and wonderful. I saw shops and people. And I got re-acquainted with distance. I've been driving so long, I've simply lost my ability to tell how far things are. In real physical terms. And how much time it takes to cross it with only my body, my legs, to rely on.
This morning I woke up and felt used. And good. And refreshed. I want to do it again. But for now, I'm going to pull my bike out and get my muscles back into some kind of shape.
I've slowly been weaning myself off of my meds and walking has helped with that as well. My mood is improved and the shakes and jolts of electricity have worked their way through my system much more quickly. I'm happy. Which makes me feel good. Because I like feeling my feelings again. The good ones. The bad ones. I'm okay with them. I don't know how long my stability will last. I'm hoping it's manageable so I can stay off them. I can't afford them without my insurance and, chances are, now that I'm in the restaurant biz, I may not be any place long enough to qualify for them again.
Who would have thought that slowing down would be the way to feel better? When everything about life these days seems to be about doing, and being and achieving, as quickly as possible, I'm pretty sure that slowing down is the way to success for me. On my terms.
Life really is a wheel. Only the second pass comes with more insight. More balance. I like it.
Best. Of. Intentions.
So. Reality bites. An hour into my walk, I was only a third of the way there and only had around a half an hour to get there. So, feet aching, hot, sweaty and tired, I sat down and called a cab. Twenty minutes later I was at work and all was fine. Turns out, it's more like six miles. And...I'm not an energetic, effortlessly fit, sixteen year old anymore. And...I was now at work with no car. F.U.N.
Actually, I took the bus half way home, missed my connection and walked the rest of the way.
All tolled, I managed to walk nearly five miles yesterday and feel pretty good today for it. (except for the bloody stumps that were my feet) I learned that my bike is my friend and it's going to be a while before I'm fit enough to walk. And I do plan on doing that again, eventually.
Because I like walking. For lots of reasons, not just for fitness. When I was younger, (see above), I walked everywhere. I grew up in Cupertino, which at that time, 1972-79, was pretty much still prune orchards and small farms. Walking was not only expedient, it was calming and beautiful. I would walk to Saratoga or Los Gatos and enjoy the neighborhoods and the horses and trees. I walked the Cupertino foothills and to and from my job at Buck Norrad riding stables (now long gone). And I loved it. I loved being alone and stretching my legs and my mind. And now that I'm older, I miss it.
Part of me really liked walking yesterday. Oh, sure, it was painful and exhausting. But it was also slow, and lazy and wonderful. I saw shops and people. And I got re-acquainted with distance. I've been driving so long, I've simply lost my ability to tell how far things are. In real physical terms. And how much time it takes to cross it with only my body, my legs, to rely on.
This morning I woke up and felt used. And good. And refreshed. I want to do it again. But for now, I'm going to pull my bike out and get my muscles back into some kind of shape.
I've slowly been weaning myself off of my meds and walking has helped with that as well. My mood is improved and the shakes and jolts of electricity have worked their way through my system much more quickly. I'm happy. Which makes me feel good. Because I like feeling my feelings again. The good ones. The bad ones. I'm okay with them. I don't know how long my stability will last. I'm hoping it's manageable so I can stay off them. I can't afford them without my insurance and, chances are, now that I'm in the restaurant biz, I may not be any place long enough to qualify for them again.
Who would have thought that slowing down would be the way to feel better? When everything about life these days seems to be about doing, and being and achieving, as quickly as possible, I'm pretty sure that slowing down is the way to success for me. On my terms.
Life really is a wheel. Only the second pass comes with more insight. More balance. I like it.
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