I walked 2.64 miles today. Two point six four! That sounds pretty impressive until you realize my ass is now acting like I personally betrayed it.
When I started walking a few weeks ago, I was doing about a quarter of a mile. Now look at me, out here walking over two and a half miles like I’m training for something. I’m not sure what I’m training for, unless it’s the ability to sit down without making a noise.
The walk itself was actually pretty good. I enjoyed the fresh air, the neighborhood and pretending I’m one of those people who has their life together because they exercise every morning. Then I got home, sat down and discovered that apparently, my backside did not approve of today’s adventure.
My legs are tired, my feet are tired and my ass hurts. I’m pretty sure there are muscles back there that have been unemployed for years, and now they’re demanding better working conditions.
I did it, though. I walked 2.64 miles, which is a long way from that quarter-mile nonsense I started with. I’ll probably do it again tomorrow, assuming I can get out of this chair without needing a rescue team.
Progress is progress, even when it hurts. And if walking is supposed to make me healthier, I would appreciate it if my ass could stop taking it so personally.
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