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Venturing forth

I finally, finally got outdoors for a walk yesterday. Finished three miles in exactly an hour, thanks to a big of jogging in the third mile. Yes, I am slow. And old. And slow. (The first mile is ALL uphill, and I can rarely complete it in less than 22 minutes. Since it's an out-and-back route, that makes the third mile all DOWNHILL, which is – at times – a blast!)

Looking back up the driveway from the road.
My husband walked with me, but added two more miles to his route. I needed to get back home to take care of a batch of English muffin dough which was rising. I made him stop once we got off our property so I could take a picture: Proof that I did, indeed, leave the premises.

Got home, "baked" the muffins (which is done stovetop in a skillet), showered and went to the bank, grocery and gas station. Running errands is not usually something to which I look forward. It really did feel good to get out, though, amazingly good.

To top off my day of freedom, I … um … went to the prison. While some might not look at that as a dream destination, it was exactly what I needed to add some perspective to my week of confinement.

Seriously. Being confined is a relative state, and I'm not sure a week of being snowed in really counts after all. So in the end, I'm just a whiny, ungrateful bitch.

AND I WORK HARD AT IT, she said, smiling.

Comments

jen said…
Why do you need to call yourself old and slow. We have NO real hills here, so I have no idea how long it takes to walk uphill.
Debbi McNeer said…
I compare my current self to the one who moved here 20 years ago. So, yes, I am old(er). And since I used to make it up the hill in about 18 minutes, I'm quite a bit slower. Again, more perspective. Or just keepin' it real.

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