This is my community center’s inside walking trail. I went there yesterday morning, around 10:30 am and registered ($5 for a whole year!, I am a resident, big difference), had a nice chat with Miss Linda, the receptionist, and on my way up to the trail, just in a very casual way, I asked her, is the trail 1/4 of a mile? I thought, I do this four times, and I am out of here, having done what is totally good for my internal organs and skeletal apparatus. You know, 62 and two months and one half is not a joke anymore. Either you take yourself seriously, or hit the road, or the pavement. She said back to me, “no, it is 1/16 of a mile.” WHAT! I thought, I have to do this 16 times! Now that is a total different thing than what I had envisioned. Suddenly I felt very, very tired and the oval-looking trail became this out of space challenge. On the second round of the walkabout, I started to feel as if the trail was moving under my feet, and then I said to self, “look, there are other women doing this thing that look a bit older than you and they are moving real fast. Stop being a wimp and carry on.” My heart started pounding a bit faster, and then I thought about Jim Fixx, remember him, he collapsed (and then died) while he was jogging. All kinds of thoughts are coming at me real fast, but slowing very much my pace, I decided to move to the slow lane. There are three; center lane, I guess for regular, right one for slow (me) and left for passers and hot potatoes that while they are passing you, you can tell they are kind of thinking of you as a second class walker.
I used to walk five days a week with Miss Raylene and one by myself with no problems at all. After my first walk at the center, (30 minutes, they have a small clock on the wall, slowest one ever) I decided three times a week will be just about right for me and the rest of my slow poke body.
Is the winter of my discontent affecting me so much that I have become a physical slob and cannot handle just a nice one-mile walk? I’ll let you know what happens on Friday, even though there is a slight chance of snow. Already looking for excuses. Shame, shame on me. I am just 62, what’s going on? Need to put some of my-age type music and start the dancing routine once again. Don’t like this laziness. I used to be a type “A” person, now I rate myself a type “What the heck is that” person. Need to change, or the bucket may be getting too close for comfort.
To wrap it up, I feel somewhat better about myself. Oh, I forgot, they do take a picture of you for your id, and there I was, baseball cap and sunglasses trying to go incognito. Thanks for the merciful Miss Linda. She let me keep the cap. Not a good hair day. You know my issues with hair.
Tomorrow will be another day with its surprises and challenges. Bring it on!
Your Happy Contessa