I didn't want to do it.
I had plenty of excuses in hand.
Tired from a long day at work.
Dressed up just a little today, felt good about how I looked at the moment.
Would rather go out to dinner, dressed up as I was.
There's reading to get done by Wednesday.
I've got laundry to do.
The plants need watering.
It's already too warm outside, I'll need another shower after.
The voice of reason spoke up, then. Or was it yelling at me?
You promised yourself time outside every day this month.
You are committed to forming healthy habits.
Diabetes and stroke run in your family.
You are not going out to dinner tonight.
A hot shower feels good at the end of the day.
You can water the plants when you get home.
The reading can get done while the laundry is going.
On went the tee shirt and shorts, showing off pasty white legs and spider veins. On went the brightly colored sneakers. Out the door, take a right. Wave and talk to hubby as he returns from his bicycle ride. Round this cul-de-sac, then straight up the hill.
Greet the gentleman as he heads for his front door. Not much older than me, but can barely lift his feet up to the curb as he carries his groceries in. That is why I'm walking.
Take a left at the top of the hill. Pause for the elderly man shuffling across the sidewalk to his mailbox, so stooped over that he looks as though he will fall at any moment. I straighten up my own posture a bit. That is why I'm walking.
Feeling wooden, plodding along, I almost turn left on the street that will lead directly back to my house. I see another walker two blocks ahead, how she keeps going, and decide I can, too.
I cross over in front of the middle school, then turn left again up my street, noting each of the sixteen houses I pass on my way home. A friendly chat with a neighbor on the sidewalk reminds me of what I miss when I am focused on the time, instead of the action. I
can need to pause for this.
The plants get watered. The reading and laundry get done. I give myself a shiny star on the calendar, determined to get another tomorrow.