Walking

Since joining the walking group, I’ve come to discover that what I was doing prior to joining the walking group was not walking. Not walking in the least.

One might have described what I was doing as strolling, or sauntering.

At some points I may have even appeared to be rambling.

But, walking? No, I certainly wasn’t walking, at least as compared to the group.

I may as well have been crawling.

Just let me say that the pace was a tad quick. And me? I’m a tad slow. In fact, I’m more than a tad slow. I am v-e-r-y slow. My nickname was “Christmas” for a time growing up, because it took me so long to finish, move. I was deliberate, is all.

I was going to have to step up my game if I had any hope of surviving staying even with this group. I mean, a woman several inches shorter, walking on the backs of her shoes due to blisters on her feet, was walking faster than me and not even breathing as hard.

How these folks can walk and talk still bugs boggles me.

Never-the-less, after some several very many outings with the group, I’m keeping relative pace. My breathing at the end of the trial and tribulation walk is not as labored these days as in the beginning.

Maybe a few more outings I will be able to talk while I walk.

Then again, maybe I’ll just focus on the walking. The quick pace further fuels the klutz factor. I haven’t tripped (too much) yet, but it’s only a matter of time, maybe.

Focus.