Good Secrets

I DID make yesterday my off day, and probably will for most of the rest of the year, because I just started a bible study on Monday nights.  I'm in fast company with this group.  An accountant, a neurologist, a St. Ed's professor, a software engineer.....and perhaps most intimidating of all, a professional baker!  She makes cakes and cake balls (apparently I'm the only one who's never heard of these) and teaches a class in cake decoration. Oh, here's the coolest thing of all -- the discussion leader is a TOTAL Francophile!  Since high school she has been in love with all things French, knows the language, and just a few years ago, picked up and moved there for six months.  Can you imagine all the things I can learn from her?  The books she can direct me to?  The fashion tips she can impart?  The food???

During our introductions, we had to describe ourselves a bit and then tell the class one secret thing they might never guess about us.  I referenced my "outstanding parallel parking skills."  Some instinct told me not to talk about my walking and my blog.  If I'm reading it correctly, I'm looking for a safe, pressure-free place where no one will ask me if I've done my walk that day or if I'm going to blog about something that someone said.  As we continued around the room, that instinct proved exactly right.  The accountant's "secret" was that she's a cancer survivor, and for the past five or so years, she's been participating in the Susan B. Koman walks.  They walk 20 miles a day for three days in a row, and she flies around the country participating in those walks in lots of different states.  She described herself as "obsessed with walking."  Okay. That decided it. I get all the attention and applause that I need from friends, family and coworkers for my little project; she can be the walker in this group. I love the idea of carrying my small, sacred secret within me, just in this one part of my life.

Tonight's walk was hideous.  Out of sheer necessity, I was forced to include the mile that I did with Banks this morning.  I was sluggish and irritable -- what do you expect after marble cake and chocolate ice cream late in the afternoon (yes, another office birthday), followed by, God help me, fried chicken for dinner. (A line of Louie C.K.'s kept going through my mind: "The meal is not over when I'm full.  The meal is over when I hate myself.") I thought it was cool enough for Banks to walk comfortably for an hour or so, but he kept lying down in the grass and rolling around.  I just didn't have it in me to push it tonight. 

Tomorrow.