Let me bitch and complain for a bit. It’ll make me feel better – promise.
Generally, I’d write about this sort of crap in my personal journal, but not today. Nope, this time I’m gonna publically shame me – or so I think.
After getting up this morning, I weighed myself. I’m a hefty two-hundred and five pounds.
My first thought, “Holy shit!”
For years I’ve been battling a broken lower back, so exercise is difficult. Walking is even a strain on my vertebrae.
But I know I must do something – anything – which is better than nothing and nothings the one thing I’ve been doing the most. But not today – I went for a stroll around the local neighborhood park.
In my youth, grade school through high school and even into my 20’s I was fast. At one point my top speed was clocked at 26.8 miles per hour.
I doubt I could go any faster than 6 miles an hour, if tested.
As a kid, I did a lot of running. In fact I could go for hours and hours and never realize how far I’d gone.
But that was running without a real purpose. I was jus’ a kid at play, having fun and doing what ever I could to keep from working my chores.
In track, I enjoyed the sprint, 100 and 220 yard dash and the 440 Relay. Long distant running was not my forte , as I saw it as work – and ask any long-distant runner – they’ll agree it is work.
When I was in the service, I could walk miles on end, hour-after-hour, through any weather condition, over any terrain. Today, though I found that walking half-a-mile or less in five-inch tall grass is an effort.
It wore me out, causing spasms in my lower back, so severe; I had to stop after one lap. Then I sat in my truck for 15 minutes waiting for the pain to subside.
But all is well that ends well – I’m home now — enjoying a Guinness Dark Draught.