I don’t remember when I started to walk. I am pretty sure I was there but no remarkable memories are recalled. There is some anecdotal evidence that I must have been very enthusiastic about the effort since some family members referred to me by the nickname “horsepower.”
However it happened, I did get to the point where walking has become one of the joys in my life. As far back as I remember, walking is something I can do well. I can remember being 3 or 4, slipping out of my bed at home, sneaking out of the house and walking the 50 or so yards over to my Grandma’s house. I knew she would be up, even if my mother wasn’t. At that early age walking gave me independence at least equal to, if not greater than, the independence I later felt when the first driver’s license was in my pocket.
Growing up on a farm gave wonderful opportunities to walk. Everything is so open on the farm. From the house to the “bottom” of the home place was a half mile of wide open fields. When I was little, sometimes I would be sent to get the dairy cows and bring them to the barn to be milked. This would mean walking to the field where they were, finding the one farthest away and encouraging them to head up the lane to the dairy barn. It easily was a half mile round trip on a good day. I didn’t appreciate the joy of walking (in fact I may have been known to complain from time to time)
As I got older moving sprinkler hand line was one of my big tasks. I was good at it. After all, it is just walking, picking up a pipe, walking, putting the pipe down and walking. No great mental effort required (except to keep the line straight) and lots of walking. A great combination for me.
Now, when I look at my Dad having trouble walking, worries come into my mind. I remember my Great-grandmother in a wheelchair and my Grandmother in a wheelchair when we went to visit her as I was older. I have to face the possibility that I may have problems walking as the years continue to pile up. Some days my legs hurt, sometimes they even wake me up. So, I worry.
There is a very positive side to this “hyper sensitivity” to everything leg related. I have discovered that if I get out and exercise every day, my legs hurt less. So, I push myself to get out, even on those days I would rather stay in bed for just a little longer.
I don’t know how many years I will continue to have the joy of waking with my sweetie up the shady canyon trail, along a beach in Hawaii, or down into, across and up out of the Grand Canyon, but I am not taking one day for granted.
--Somebody's Father
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4 comments:
When you come out to visit, we'll do some good walking out here. It's all walking, all the time. (That's how it works when no one drives).
I'm glad that you guys walk so much. I'm not always the happiest when we are walking in some hot canyon, but I do like to come along with you guys for the adventure. I mostly like it afterward when we get to have dinner and sleep. :)
Thanks for being a great example of getting exercise.
Hey baby- my boots are made for walking.
I like to think I'm fairly experienced in dealing with leg pain, and I have found the following: there is a "sweet spot" with my legs. If I do less walking than that, they really start to bother me. If I do much more, they really start to bother me. But if I can aim for and hit my sweet spot most days, they really don't bother me at all anymore. And when they do bother me, I just have to figure out which side of the spot I'm on and adjust accordingly (go for a walk or go put my feet up for a bit).
I'm glad you've kept with the walking, even after the dog abandoned you. And as cute as the dog was, your new walking companion is much, much hotter. :-)
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