Seven Days and Counting. Seriously Counting.

I'd have to go back and check, but it seems like it's been a long time since I did my five miles first thing in the morning on a work day.  I'd almost forgotten how good that felt.  This morning, again, I wanted to put it off, either over the lunch hour (remember how well that worked out?) or after work, but one look at Banks' hopeful, plaintive face this morning, and I put my own needs aside. We hadn't been at St. Ed's in a long time, so we focused on that area.  I felt like being completely unfettered this morning, so I didn't take my phone/stopwatch, figuring I"d use the St. Ed's tower clock as my guide.  Well, guess what?  There were no chimes this morning.  I don't know if they don't gong the bells too early in deference to the sleeping students, or if there is some ancient Catholic tradition of no bell-gonging until sunrise, but in any event, I was on my own.  Came home with 12 minutes to spare, fed Banks, and went back out and circled the neighborhood alone.

I know why I'm struggling right now.  It's the unscheduled day off I took last Tuesday as a result of my disastrous, all-day travel adventure.  I try to shoot for Friday as my day off, because the weekend walks are easy, and I like to reward myself at the end of the work week with a day off. But this time, I'm looking at nine days straight before I get a break, and that's been tough psychologically more than physically.  It's confirmed for me that I got it exactly right when I planned for six days on, one day off.  Just knowing that I'm gradually reclaiming that schedule has me in a better frame of mind.

Check in with me tomorrow as I assess the results of my first month.

Nooner

Last night was one of those nights where lack of sleep made it impossible to do my walk in the morning. As I lay awake last night -- 1:30, 2:00, 3:00 -- I finally arrived at the root of the problem.  How many cups of coffee can one have in the morning before the law of diminishing returns kicks in?  Every morning I have two huge mugs of coffee -- no more.  But again, they're HUGE, each one easily the equal of the two "cups of coffee" the health experts refer to.

So I gulped those two (four) down yesterday, then proceeded on to my breakfast with Barbara, whereupon I consumed (I'm estimating) six more cups. We were there almost an hour and a half, and the waitress refilled my cup every 15 minutes, at least.  So that explains my tossing and turning last night. That, and the fact that Matthew (on PBS' Downton Abbey) will probably never walk again, after the injury he suffered in the war, not to mention the death of his loyal servant William, who died trying to save him, and not only will he not walk, but won't be able to procreate, and how is that going to work with the hot-blooded Mary?  Really, I've been through a lot.

I decided to take my walk over the lunch hour.  (Banks, I'm SORRY!  Tomorrow, I promise!)  I'm lucky to have a flexible job, where it's not a problem to take an hour and half lunch, then just stay an extra half hour in the afternoon. Unfortunately, the 1.5 hours turned into closer to two as I became distracted on the Lady Bird Lake trail, lost my bearings, realized I was way over the halfway time mark, and then tried to shave off some minutes by, inexplicably, taking a shortcut through Austin High School (literally -- I walked through the halls and past the cafeteria -- it made sense at the time) and then dodging speeding vehicles as I walked, vagabond-like, on the narrow sidewalk alongside Cesar Chavez.  I think from now on I'll stick to a more sedate route for those time-sensitive lunchtime strolls.

Sunday morning coming down

Poor Banks.  He missed Friday's walk, and today's. My friend Barbara and I planned to meet at a new-ish breakfast place, Another Broken Egg on Guadalupe.  I googled it -- 4.7 miles from my house.  Of course I had to do it.  I've learned that I love having an actual destination at the end of my five. 

How can someone say they're "not a morning person"? Everything is so....new in the morning.  The day is just there, a blank slate, waiting for you to make of it what you wish.  If you wake up at 10:00, you've allowed someone else -- the universe -- to set the tone for you.

Another week starts tomorrow, and a month ends on Wedneday.  Looking forward to stepping on the scale and sharing my first results with you.

Full Circle

I've got a lot to catch up on.  Wednesday and Thursday evenings were typical and uneventful SoCo walks with Banks, but I HAVE learned one new thing.  (It is so embarrasing, being this tech-clueless). If I take my iphone with me, all I have to do is click on "clock" then "start" and it times my walk for me.  No, it doesn't figure out averages or anything like that, but at least it doesn't freeze up, and it's free.  So that's my go-to gadget for the foreseeable future.  That icon has been on my phone since I got it.  Again, embarrasing.

Yesterday I made a difficult trip to Houston to see my Uncle Frank for the last time.  He's 94 and in hospice there, and is very much in the end stages.  He was unresponsive, and I have no way of knowing if he heard me, as I held his hand and whispered my goodbyes.  My cousin and cousin-in-law, Barbara and Rita, were there and they, along with Uncle Frank's two sons, have been keeping around-the-clock vigils in shifts.  It was a sad and tearful visit, but I left grateful that he is so loved and cherished by his family.

Uncle Frank was an avid exerciser into his late 80s, and I know he would have loved my blog and my commitment to five miles a day.  I dedicated that day's walk to him.  I had business in Spring, about 40 minutes away, and decided to do my walk there.  I landed in, I believe, "Old Town Spring," an older section of the city featuring tons of little shops -- herb therapy, candles, meats, dolls, birdhouses, New Age crystals -- just about any specialty you could imagine -- placed, improbably, in the midst of a rather run-down neighborhood.  I walked through the streets of both the shop area and the community (Have these people ever heard of a sidewalk? I muttered to myself, dodging cars and strollers), and finally found a park-like setting that gave me a good couple of miles. 

On the way back, I passed a day care center where the children were outside on this glorious afternoon.  Spying me, several ran to the fence and asked what I was doing.  "Just going for a walk," I replied.  The rest of the conversation took place, as playground discussions always do, at top volume.  "WHY?" shouted a little girl.  "BECAUSE SHE WANTS SOME FRESH AIR!!" yelled another.  "IT'S A BEAUTIFUL DAY, ISN'T IT MISS?"  OMG....I could feel my heart starting to melt.  They saw my iphone and asked why I had that. "I like to take walks and take pictures of things I see along the way."  'TAKE A PICTURE OF US!!!!" they shrieked, in unison.  So I did.  Maybe there are rules about that sort of thing, in this hypervigilent age, but I needed it.  After a half hour in an assisted living facility, with residents in various stages of dementia and other illnesses, I NEEDED to take away with me an image of that youth, that innocence, that utter joy in being alive. 

Uncle Frank is slipping away, and these kids are barely out of the gate.  I walked away and sent up a prayer for all of them -- for health, peace, prosperity, happiness, love and every other good thing the world has to offer. 

Godspeed, Uncle Frank.

Train Wreck

That's preferable to a plane crash, which apparently I avoided twice on my trip to Virginia.  From Austin to Chicago was uneventful.  On the way to Baltimore, there was an issue with icing -- something about fluid leaking -- and so we turned back, and were met with emergency vehicles on the ground.  The passengers were all re-routed to different flights via different airports, and after a few hours, I was D.C.-bound.  A half hour or so before we were scheduled to land, another emergency -- this time an overheated engine, which necessitated "finding the first piece of concrete we could land on," according to the pilot.  We landed at a tiny airfield -- not even an airport -- in West Virginia, again met with fire trucks and ambulences.

That was the easy part.

We were stuck on the plane for almost three hours -- we were in the midde of nowhere, and there were no vehicles to take us anywhere.  There was a lot of fog, and no buses were willling to travel from D.C., about 85 miles away, to get us.  Finally a fire department showed up, and transported us to a small lounge on the property.  Starving (it was 11:00 pm, and no one had eaten since lunch), we raided the vending machines and got ready for the fleet of taxis that American Airlines had supposedly contracted with to take us to the Comfort Inn a few miles away.  Two hours later, one taxi showed up. One.  I was lucky to be on the first round-trip, because I had been willing to wait outside, in the freezing weather, to be at the head of the line.  He took all 50-something of us in groups of 4-5.  The last group, I understand, got to the motel at 4:30.

My group arrived at 1:30.  We were checked in by very sweet young man who couldn't have been more than 18 or 19, and was clearly anxious at the prospect of handling such a large group.  Some were complaining, some were making a party of it.  He said "I'm just glad you're all safe."  At which point I almost burst into tears.  Yeah -- it WAS good to be safe.  We could have been blown to bits upon impact with the ground, or been consumed by a fire before plummeting earthward.  I''m embarrassed to admit that, once on the ground, I gave barely a thought to that, focusing only on my own discomfort and inconvenience, and feeling very, very sorry for myself.  Thank you for that reminder, friend.  I went to my warm room, fell asleep immediately in my very comfortable bed, and arose the next morning to surprisingly good coffee and a more than adequate "continental breakfast."

I completed my business, but missed the opportunity to see my brother and his family.  As much as I'm trying to focus on the gratitude aspect of this whole thing, that one still smarts.

The experience only affirmed my resolve, going into this project, to never take my one day off just because I didn't feel like walking that day, because there are going to be days, like Tuesday, when there is no way I can do my five.  I had an hours-long layover in Dallas/Fort Worth, and toyed with the idea of walking the airport for 90 minutes, but I was traveling alone and had no one to watch my luggage.  So Tuesday it is for this week.

Man, I eat crap when I travel, even under the best of circumstances.  I always come home feeling sluggish and constipated.  Nothing that a five-mile walk couldn't cure; the problem is, where might I be when the cure comes?  Not to put too fine a point on it. 

I'm taking the morning off and am REALLY looking forward to walking Banks tonight.  There is nothing like sitting for hours in a cramped and stale airplane to make you appreciate fresh air and the ability to stride hard and swing your arms.  It's good to be back.

Way Too Early

This morning was the first time I asked myself, Am I carrying this thing too far?  I awoke even before the alarm went off at 3:45.  I was so tired and bleary-eyed that I didn't realize until after we'd left that I'd forgotten a poop bag for Banks.  All I could do was hope that he did number two in a discreet place (he did).

I was cranky and impatient, and found myself pulling roughly on Banks' leash from time to time.  Sorry buddy.  But as usual, after about 30 minutes, things settled into a groove.  I thought about how I'd feel, after a year, if I really did complete 1,500+ miles.  What might my body look like?  That'll keep you moving. Mostly I thought about how subsequent walks will seem like a piece of cake after this one. 

I thought I'd feel weird and conspicuous, being out at 4:00 a.m., but I didn't give it a thought.  I kept to well-lit Congress for the most part, but felt perfectly safe when I wound through the residential areas to lengthen the walk. 

I'm back and showered and waiting for my ride to the airport.  I'll see you in Virginia.

Past Life

Early church, then lunch with my sister Lynn. I realized that I'd left my phone charger in my office -- I need it for my trip tomorrow -- so I decided to drive with Banks downtown to retrieve it, and do our five miles there.  We walked around the Capitol.  It wasn't hot (yet) and it wasn't cold.  There were only a few scattered people out, and the area was pretty flat.  I kept feeling it wasn't hard enough.

I cast a glance towards the University of Texas.  How long had it been since I'd roamed that campus?  Tugging at Banks' collar, I said "Let's go see where mommy went to school."

We entered from the south, where, as an English major, most of my classes took place. What was the name of that building?  Parsons?  Parlin!  That's it -- and it was connected to Calhoun, where most of my upper division classes took place.  We took a right past Batts, where so many of my huge auditorium classes happened.  We circled around campus and came to the ABC dorms -- Andrews-Blanton-Carouthers.  Lynn and I had roomed together at Andrews, and I stood in the driveway staring at it.  I swear to God, if I hadn't had Banks with me, I would have summoned the courage to knock on the door and ask to see the third-floor room at the top of the stairs.  That was our room.   The door was always open, and the third-floor residents were in the habit, upon climbing the stairs, of coming into our room, dropping their backpacks on the floor, and collapsing on the beds. 

The Geography building is directly across from Andrews.  There was one night when I had a paper to finish and didn't want to bother Lynn, so I took my typewriter to a loung-type room in that building and pulled an all-nighter.  The door was unlocked.  I would type for a while, take a nap on the couch and then go back to work.  The light was on, and I made no effort to hide myself.  No janitor or campus policeman challenged my right to be there, and it would never have occurred to me that they would. 

We finished up in the open area west of the old Academic Center, which spills out into the drag.  That was the hub of the campus back in the 70s.  Hippies and Greeks comingled happily. I would sit on one of the brick walls with my friends, eating the sandwhich that saw me through my undergrad years -- cheddar cheese, tomato and alfalfa sprouts on dark rye.  There always seemed to be an evangelist or political activist shouting their message.  I would glimpse a shaggy-haired boy I'd developed a recent crush on, slumping across campus, and my heart would leap.  Never did life seem so full of hope and thrilling possibilites.  Or, I remind myself, of anxiety and insecurity and heartbreak.

The tower clock struck 2:30.  Ten minutes to get back to my car and complete five.  I said goodbye to my university and my half-formed self.  I focused my gaze back to the present, which included dinner tonight with my own college student sons.  It's their turn.

Recalculating

Just the thought of trying to figure this out makes my head hurt, so I'm not even going to try.  This morning I accidentally walked 5.4 miles.  Exactly.  Meaning:  I thought I was going 5.0, but took a wrong turn that made it seem a little longer, and it was.  As soon as I got home, I got in the car and retraced the route. Exactly 5.4 miles.  And I had done it alone, because once again, I had taken Banks five miles just the night before, and felt he needed the rest. 

My time was 92 minutes -- for almost 5 1/2 miles.  I had been doing 5.0 miles in 90 minutes (with Banks).  So either Banks is slowing me down significantly, or I've gotten a lot faster in the last few weeks.  Stay tuned.  We'll figure it out tomorrow.

On the Road Again

Yesterday was my day off, and today my walk will happen after work.  I’m feeling a little antsy, and am anxious to get back on the road.  So is Banks, since he was left out of my restaurant adventure a couple of nights ago. 

I'm not usually this lucky.  Just a couple of weeks ago, my brother, stationed at the Pentagon, had a week-long business trip to San Antonio and was able to spend part of the weekend here in Austin.  He had barely arrived when I was informed that I would be traveling to Virginia for my own business trip – and that my destination was nine miles from my brother’s home.  I’m leaving Monday the 23^rd, returning the next day. 

Let me tell you, for the first time, I’m kind of sweating the details of my walk.  My plane leaves at 8:00 am.  I’ve always breezily disregarded the admonitions to arrive at the airport an hour and a half or two hours early, but that caught up with me on my Puerto Rico trip in December.  I will never forget the rising panic I felt, shuffling through the miles-long security checkpoint, realizing that my son and I were not going to make the plane.  We didn’t.  Which means we missed both connecting flights, and spent the night in the freezing cold Tampa airport, with its bright lights and deafening Christmas Muzak. We’re still not over it. 

So if I get to the airport at 6:30, and it takes me roughly 15 minutes to get there, that means I have to finish my 1.5 hour walk by 5:30 in order to shower and be out the door at 6:15 – which means that I have to start it at 4:00.  Can I do that???  Actually, I’m feeling a little thrill as I type this.  It’s bringing back the family vacations of my childhood, when we would get up at 3:00 am, load up the car and drive off into the darkness to get a four-hour jump on the traffic.  It felt surreal and magical, and stopping at a Howard Johnson’s for breakfast a few hours later made it even more special.

For this “middle of the night” trek, Banks and I will definitely stay on the well-lit Congress Avenue streets.  Sometimes it pays to have a fierce-looking dog with a heart of gold.

Mixing it up

I am always trying to find ways to be creative and mix things up on this project, to make it more interesting for me AND you.  Yesterday as I contemplated dinner with my friend Marcy later that night, I had a brainstorm:  Walk to the restaurant.  Austin Land and Cattle (for my money, the best steak place in town) is 3.9 miles from my house; I could take Banks on a 1.1 miles walk in the neighborhood, then head to the restaurant on foot.  And that’s exactly what I did.

I allowed myself 1 ¼ hours to get there, and arrived about ten minutes early.  The last quarter of the walk found me in some questionable areas with the sun down, but overall, it was fun to experience other parts of town, especially the shops and clubs on Lamar between about 4^th and 12^th.  I threw caution to the wind and made the trip in regular street shoes.

Do you have a Marcy in your life?  A friend forever, your biggest cheerleader, the friend who NEVER FAILS TO SHOW UP FOR YOU?  We’ve been friends since college, and have been through virtually every adult life experience together.   Last year we made a pact to never go more than a month without catching up over dinner.  But just as important are our impromptu coffee dates in between – usually preceded by a frantic text (“We need to talk NOW”) alluding to a parenting emergency or a crisis of confidence.  I can’t imagine navigating life without her, and she needs to stop talking about moving back to Cape Cod.  Right now.  This is us finishing up our bone-in ribeyes.



I should do this more often

A cold front was blowing in as I left work a little late today.  I swung by Zen and picked up a veggie bowl, ate it in front of the TV while catching the second Seinfeld, felt myself growing tired.  I toyed with the idea of letting today be my off day, but I knew that was just fatigue talking.  So I grabbed Banks, and by the time we walked out the door, the cold front had fully arrived.

This time, I didn't want to mess around.  No meandering walks, no arriving home to find out how much time I needed to make up.  We headed straight down Congress.  I know the half mile, mile, mile and a half, 2 mile and 2.5 mile markers, and we just kept passing them.  We even crossed the Congress Avenue bridge, which always feels a little treacherous to me, and didn't turn around til we passed 6th St. -- the 2.5 mark.  The first half of the trip is the best:  downhill, with the city I love in front of me,  ablaze with white and blue lights.  I asked myself why I don't do this more often.

Then we started the second half, and I remembered.  Southbound Congress is not a steep incline, but it's a steady one.  Once you cross back over the bridge, it's uphill for well over two miles.  The backs of my knees are aching, and it's time to pull out the big guns -- ice and Aleve. 

It's cold outside and warm inside, and once I finish icing, I'm going to take a hot bath.  I plan to sleep very well tonight.

Now, that's a quote

“Above all, do not lose your desire to walk.  Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness.  I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it.  But by sitting still, and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill. Thus, if one keeps on walking, everything will be all right.” – Soren Kierkegaard

Now, that’s a quote.

My niece Allison, who writes beautiful poems and short stories, steered me toward “Wanderlust:  A History of Walking” by one of her favorite authors, Rebecca Solnit.  As Allison and I share so many things – from a love of the same books and movies to a seeming inability to close cupboards and drawers that we’ve opened – I ordered the book off Amazon and even paid extra for fast shipping, because I knew I’d love it as much as she did.

Maybe I should mention that Allison is about six times smarter than I am. 

I delved eagerly into the book, hoping to share quotes and insights like Kierkegaard’s above.  They may be in there, but first you’re going to have to wade through prose like this:  “Occasionally I focused on the act of walking, but mostly it was unconscious, the feet proceeding with their own knowledge of balance, of sidestepping rocks and crevices, of pacing, leaving me free to look at the roll of hills far away and the abundance of flowers close up: brodia; the pink papery blossoms whose name I never learned; an abundance of cloverlike sourgrass in yellow-bloom; and then halfway along the last bend, a paperwhite narcissus.” How about this: “Or perhaps walking should be called movement, not travel, for one can walk in circles or travel around the world immobilized in a seat, and a certain kind of wanderlust can only be assuaged by the acts of the body itself in motion, not the motion of the car, boat or plane.”  Or this: “The multiplication of technologies in the name of efficiency is actually eradicating free time by making it possible to maximize the time and place for production and minimize the unstructured travel time in between.” 

And that’s just the first chapter.  

Ms. Solnit is a fine writer, but I don’t think I’ll be lobbying to accompany her on a long-distance walk anytime soon. 

The first words I heard when I strapped on my ipod this morning were the ominous “Battery low.”  I rode it out til it died a few notes into Supertramp’s “Goodbye Stranger” in front of St. Ed’s Mary Moody Theater, then took an unplanned detour back to Stacy Park (my new favorite venue), returning home six minutes short of my 90.  You know the drill from there – dropped off Banks, filled his water bowl, and made up the last few minutes on neighboring streets.

Ipod is charging, and I’m looking for some new tunes to download.  Any suggestions, Allison?  J

Slugging through

I was kind of a slacker today, in no hurry whatsoever to complete five.  Partly it was because I wanted to sleep late, partly it was the gray and overcast weather, and partly it was because I had all day and what's the hurry?  So Banks and I didn't get started til almost 2:00.  And frankly, I wasn't feeling it today.  I had brought my iphone with me, and found myself checking the time a LOT.

I'm not in a bad mood, but there are several things pressing on me.  Those minor, manageable hurts and disappointments that weigh you down a little, things that aren't on your mind constantly, but resurface every so often to remind you that things are not quite right.  The friend who fails to come through.  The middle school student who doesn't seem to be gettng much out of our mentoring sessions.  The adult child who is determined to pursue a path you don't feel is best. 

Completing a five mile walk does not "fix" any of these things. But here's what it does do.  I return home simultaneously tired and invigorated.  My problems are still there, but so is the fact that, in a small way, I have shown discipline and strength.  And feeling strength, I am more inclined to extend grace than pass judgment. To cut myself some slack. To offer up a prayer and trust that my children have the tools to manage their own life.  And that is enough.

Saturday

It couldn’t have been more perfect.   I slept late (for me), allowed myself to watch several back-to-back episodes of “Sell this House,” and by 9:00 the sun was starting to burn off the edge of this cold, cold morning.  We left the house bundled up, and returned an hour and a half later with my hoodie tied around my waist, and sweat pockets on both sides of my long-sleeved T-shirt.  How perfect is Austin’s winter weather?  Sunny but brisk (in January!) during the day, bone-chillingly cold when it’s time to hibernate under the covers.  Of course, there’s a high price to be paid:  the endless 100-degree days of June, July, August and September.  That particular bridge is one I’ll cross when I’m forced to.

I need some new tunes on my ipod.  I need to keep wearing my knee brace, like I did again today.  I need to be better about stretching religiously.   

I need to keep reminding myself how lucky I am for the friends who are taking this journey with me.  My GNO group, plus one husband, went to the Dougherty Arts Center last night to support Janette (in turquoise) in her performance in “Conversations While Dining Alone.”  She reciprocated by taking us out for a later dinner afterwards.

 The Broncos and the Patriots at 7:00 pm.  Are you ready for some football?

Things I Learned on My Walk Today

1. Five miles doesn't seem that long anymore.
2. No matter how cold it is -- and this morning was around freezing -- if you are wearing gloves and a wraparound scarf, cold ceases to be an issue after about seven minutes.
3. Knee braces really work.

I woke up earlier than usual this morning -- around 4:30 -- and was afraid that if I got back into my warm bed, I would have a really hard time leaving it on time.  So I saddled up Banks, and we left at 4:50.  I had to overcome my feeling that somehow, anything earlier than 5:00 AM seems more like "middle of the night" than "morning."  My right knee, which has given me problems on and off for about a year and a half, was aching a little this morning, so I strapped on the drugstore knee brace I'd bought back when the knee was really rioting. Wow.  The added support really does make a difference.   After I got home and stretched, it was less sore than it was when we started. 

Five Miles Does Not Seem That Long Anymore!  Seriously!  Thursday was my day off, and since I had done my five miles early Wednesday morning, it felt more like I had two days off, and by Thursday night, I was feeling a little itchy to hit the road.

The long weekend gives me the luxury of three days in a row of doing my walk at my leisure.  Enjoy yours.

Marking Time

The first think I noticed when I got up today was how totally zonked Banks was -- sleeping in his favorite velvet green chair, and barely raising his head to acknowledge me.  That was first thing in the morning.  By the time I had my shoes on and was ready to head out, he had shaken off his lethargy, jumped out of his chair and was looking at me expectantly. 

Banks is a real trooper, always game for whatever I've got planned, but this morning I made an executive decision to give him a day off.  It had been less than 12 hours since our last five miles, and my gut told me he needed to rest.  So I left him behind and started out, promising that I would retrieve him for the last 15 minutes or so of the walk.

There is a big, all-purpose field at St. Edwards' that has a sand-and-gravel track.  Three times around makes a mile, but Banks gets restless and bored on the track -- who can blame him? -- so we avoid it.  But today, I lapped the thing NINE TIMES, knocking out three miles.  It was mindless and soothing, and I found myself enjoying the freedom to swing my arms, keep an uninterrupted pace and get lost in my thoughts.  As much as I love his company, Banks is a bit high-maintence on a walk, and it was a nice change to not have to keep tugging at the leash while he marked his 14th tree, or to keep switching the leash from hand to hand as he galloped in front of me.  (I know, it's my fault he's not more disciplined on a leash). 

Oh, and I learned yet another way of marking time and distance!  The St. Ed's tower clock strikes on the hour and the half hour, and since I started my walk precisely at 6:00 a.m., it was an easy way to track my progress.  When the clock struck 7:00, I went back home, picked up Banks, and we finished at 7:30.

I'm looking forward to a day off tomorrow!

Accountability

Today I woke up later than planned and didn’t have time for my five miles in the morning. When I got home from work, I was that kind of bone-tired that you get when you’ve been fighting off a cold and got little sleep the night before.  Ordinarily, that would mean I’d skip my walk (or whatever was my exercise plan for the day).  Today, I didn’t give it a thought.  As soon as I finished my tacos, I saddled up Banks, and off we went.  A blog.  Accountability.  It’s changing my life.

I’m making a game out of guessing how long I’ve walked.  Tonight I decided to listen to 22 songs on my Ipod, figuring that they were approximately four minutes per song, and as always, if I was short, could just make another trip or two around the block.  I walked in the door at EXACTLY the 90-minute mark.

Tomorrow I have two after-hour work appointments, and probably won’t be home til around 8:30.  And Top Chef is on at 9:00.  I don’t care what I feel like tomorrow, it’s gonna happen in the morning.

Near Miss

I woke up several times last night, as I always do when it’s raining.  At first it was a shower; maybe a half hour later it was pouring.  It was about 3:30, and I got a little nervous, because I’m on a tight schedule today.  There’s a commitment after work, and if I couldn’t get my walk in before then, I would run the chance that I’d get home around 9:30, and be too tired to walk. 

So I made the decision to go for it.  If it was still pouring at 5:00 AM, so be it. I wouldn’t even take an umbrella, but would embrace the whole, wet experience.  I would probably leave Banks at home, because he really doesn’t care for water, whether it’s on the ground, or falling from above.

I was almost disappointed when, at just a few minutes before 5:00, I headed out and it wasn’t even sprinkling.  This time we repeated our almost new route, but on the opposite side of Congress, where I discovered the houses were nicer, the streets were MUCH wider, and it had an overall safer feel to it.  My body is getting better and better about estimating the 1 ½ hour mark, because this time we walked in the door only six minutes short of the mark.  I put out Banks’ food, pressed the start button on a new pot of coffee, and skipped up and down a long street to a couple of the dancier tunes on my ipod.

Almost as soon as I got in the car to leave for work it started pouring again.

I love going to work knowing that my milestone for the day has already been met.  I love the good kind of sore my legs feel after I’ve stretched.  I love walking five miles.

Two Siblings and a Professor

Usually I allow myself a later walk on the weekends, but this Saturday, my brother’s arrival time was uncertain, and I had a few other commitments, so I decided to get it out of the way early.  Banks and I headed down South Congress again – our new favorite route – at about 7:30.  Since there was virtually no auto OR pedestrian traffic, we lengthened the route by weaving in and out of the neighborhoods:  one block on Congress, a right into the neighborhood, a left at the end of the block, another left at the end of that block, a right on Congress, and so on.  When we returned home, there were only ten minutes left on the clock, so I left Banks at home and finished on my own.

I had a cool moment on that walk, which I’m almost reluctant to share, but here goes:  I caught a glimpse of myself in a storefront window and thought my legs looked kind of…I don’t know….streamlined in the leggings I was wearing.  We’re talking relative here.  And I say “reluctant” because the amount of food and wine consumed over the next 48 hours probably undid any streamlining that had occurred heretofore. 

Sunday’s walk was a rambling and somewhat chaotic family affair.  It included me, Banks, my sister Lynn, her Golden Retriever, and my brother Jay.  There were a  lot of walkers, runners, dogs, bikes, and strollers, and it required an enormous amount of physical and mental energy to dodge them all while maintaining conversation and trying to keep Banks out of everyone’s business.  I never really hit my stride, and was sore and exhausted afterwards.  Our walk was a 4-mile loop; the sibs rested and kept the dogs while I finished up the 5^th mile myself. I timed that one and saw that I remain at the 18-minute-per-mile pace.

Best part of the walk?  Running into Dr. George Forgie, a beloved legend in my family.  All three of us had him for History at UT, and he is far and away the greatest teacher any of us have ever had.  We’ve kept in touch over the years, and the unexpected reunion was joyful.  That’s him with us below – Jay, me, George, Lynn – still brilliant, funny and sexy after all these years.

Hey, I put some new shoes on, and suddenly everything's right

That’s not just a great song by Paolo Nufini, it was the soundtrack to last night’s walk.  My trip to RunTex was a productive one.  I picked up a great pair of new shoes ($100); learned that the average pair has between 400-500 miles in it; and that, though my old shoes had been pretty worn down, they were CONSISTENT in their worn-down-ness, which proved (according to the sales guy) that I had bought exactly the right shoes last time.  He also reminded me, as I was walking out the door, that a good sign you need new shoes is that your knees start hurting.  “One time is a fluke – two or three times, you’re ready for a new pair.”  I shudder to think of how many miles my old pair had on them, and marvel at how often I’ve complained about my aching knees, with absolutely no idea that my shoes could have anything to do with them.

So Banks and I were preparing for our walk when I noticed that Project Runway-All Stars was scheduled for 9:00. Yikes! We flew out the door at 7:57 p.m., took the new route down the South Congress neighborhood, completely forgetting the fact that it was First Thursday, which meant that South Congress was hopping -- even the residential streets east of it were pretty congested with foot traffic and overflow parking.  We are nothing if not adaptable, Banks and I, and wound our way through the crowds, actually enjoying the added liveliness.  Raced into the house at 9:06, plopped down to watch the show, quickly realized that without Heidi, Tim and Michael (you can keep Nina) the show doesn’t have its old magic.  Stormed back into the night with an old-school watch, made up the remaining 21 minutes, and called it a night. 

Rigid, schmigid.  I’m taking this thing seriously.

I’m enjoying my first day “off,” and anticipating the arrival of my D.C.-based brother for the weekend. Hope you enjoy yours!

Money Well Spent

Yesterday I treated myself to a massage at Foot Relax, which had offered a Home Run (similar to Scoutmob, Living Social, Groupon) coupon –60 minutes for $22! It was heaven – I always ask for a female masseuse, but that wasn’t really an issue here, as you don’t take your clothes off – and Jason had VERY STRONG HANDS. Usually I ask them to concentrate on my back, but this time I requested extra time on my feet and the backs of my legs. Ahhhhhh. There is nothing quite like a sharp elbow digging into tight thigh muscles. Even though I started this New Year resolving to be more prudent with my money, I left there convinced that a monthly massage was going to be not a treat, but a necessity, to maintain this body over the long haul.

I guess RunTex is feeling the economy like everyone else – when I went to what used to be their store at the Triangle after work yesterday, it was no longer there.  So it was another evening walk in my crappy shoes, but the good news is, I found an awesome new route – straightforward and easy to track, without the heavy traffic and distracting smells (Banks’ weakness) on South Congress.  It’s a long residential street parallel to Congress, with well-lit streets and plenty of sidewalk access.  We created a 2.5 mile route, which we augmented with familiar 1.0 and 1.5 miles routes right in our neighborhood.  

Hoping to be better-shod tomorrow.

Ill-Equipped

Banks and I did our five miles after work on Tuesday. Though we generally stayed on concrete, the last mile found us slicing across one of the fields at St. Edward’s.  Someone must have watered that day, because I felt a cool moisture accumulating in my right toe area.  As soon as we got home, I took the shoe off.  I looked it over and noticed a tear at the top.  I examined the sole and saw some pretty convincing signs of wear and tear.  The left shoe didn’t look any better.

I thought to myself…..How old are these things?  Seriously, when did I get these?  Are they even walking shoes?  Or did I buy them in anticipation of one more (aborted) stab at running?  On top of everything else, they are FREAKING FILTHY.

What in God’s name is wrong with me?  How could I embark on a journey of this magnitude without even a glancing thought to footwear?  What else might I have I overlooked? 

My first instinct was to Google “long-distance walking shoes” and order a new pair online, but then I remembered my last trip to RunTex.  A helpful sales associate pointed out that my gait was prolapsed – no wait, that’s my uterus --  PRONATED, and based on that, steered me to a specific pair of shoes to correct/compensate.  So it’s back to RunTex after work, and just for laughs, I’m going to take my old shoes and get an estimation of the expiration date.  I’m also going to ask a few questions that might spare me from further embarrassment, like, “How many miles does the average pair of shoes have in them?”

If I can pull this thing off, this should convince everyone that if I can do it, anyone can.

The best part of my day has probably already happened.  One of the great joys of having grown children is meeting them for breakfast and having grownup discussions about relationships, jobs and careers.  This is Sam and me at Curra’s around 8:00 this morning.

Ten Miles In

Although I love a good vacation as much as anyone, I am fundamentally a pretty serious working person.  I can only take so much leisure time, and for some reason, this Christmas holiday has seemed a little generous to me – off the Friday before and the Monday after Christmas, followed by another long weekend for New Year’s.  Factor in the four days I spent in Puerto Rico for my nephew’s wedding in mid-December, and it’s no wonder I’ve been feeling a little frivolous lately.

So even though I’m off today, I found myself itching to get back into the office this morning.  Truth be told, I have done some serious slacking off these last couple of weeks, what with the Secret Santa lunches, the potlucks and the general air of festivity that pervade most offices around this time, and I suppose my resolve to get back to work was at least partly motivated by guilt. But the truth is, there are few things I find more satisfying than coming into the office  outside of work hours.  The halls are empty, the phones aren’t ringing, the fax machine isn’t backed up, and as anyone who works in an office can tell you, you can get more work done in a concentrated three-hour period than you can in your average work day.

Since my office is almost exactly three miles from home, I took Banks on a two-mile walk down South Congress, dropped him back off at the house and continued north on Congress.  It was another beautiful morning, and I couldn’t believe that half of Austin wasn’t out walking with me.  The weather was so perfect and invigorating that I felt no need for electronic support (iTunes, iPhone,  iPod or walkmeter) and instead drank in the crisp air and the familiar surroundings.  Is there anything more beautiful than a view of the rowers on Lady Bird Lake from the South 1^st St pedestrian bridge?

I unlocked my office, stretched my calves and massaged my sore knees.  I fixed myself a steaming cup of peppermint tea.  I’m sitting at my desk now with a pile of work in front of me, and my small accomplishment behind me.  And I am a happy woman.

Mixed Bag

Sunday, January 1

First, let me say that today was not my and Banks’ first five mile walk.  To prepare for this, we’ve been logging four- and five-mile jaunts several times a week over the last few weeks.  No sense in sending my body into shock on the very first day of the journey.

So I already had a good sense of time and mileage before we began today, and that came in handy because the app I downloaded (Walkmeter) failed me.  I had already gone 3.3 miles and decided to circle around one of the fields at St. Ed’s three times, which I knew from past experience came to just over a mile.  I checked my mileage after that and saw it was still frozen at 3.3.  I have not a doubt in my mind that I caused the malfunction, but I’m not sure how I did it.

In any event, I completed OVER 5 miles for my first outing, but wish I could have been more precise in logging the time and the distance.  Next time. 

The good news is, the day was glorious.  Just cold enough so that I never had to take my hoodie off, but not so cold that I needed gloves.  My new app allowed me – at least for a while -- to be much more meandering than usual, which seemed to confuse Banks, who is used to a more purposeful route.  We would veer off into what looked like a path in the woods, only to realize it ended after 20 yards, and then make our way back through rocky, uphill terrain. It was definitely slower going than usual.

I was so focused on the walk that I did not even think to weigh myself – unheard-of on a January 1.  After I do that today, I don’t plan to do it again until February 1.  I can get way too obsessed with the number on the scale, and I want my focus to remain on the walk. 

I hope you had a great start to the New Year.