Having decided to renew my attention to this blog, I spent a little time tonight looking through some of the hundreds of posts I’ve written here in the last 13 years, each one a little time capsule from a time before my life splintered.
I got what I longed for back then, though it took a while to sink in after I got it.
There was so much about movement then, lists of miles hiked and feet of elevation gained, as befits a life lived where the summers are seldom deadly and the winters mere damp hindrances. Here, even my intrepid pit bull wilts at the thought of a walk after 9 a.m.
I have joined a gym. I put on the miles on treadmills and Adaptive Motion Trainers. About six and a third miles today, counting those spent at one end of the leash.
Surprising how good it feels to move. All these years spent sitting in chairs, and I’d forgotten. Credit the dog with my being able to still do it at all.
The other day said dog and I, and our significant other visiting from out of town, hiked into a canyon that cuts through a small mountain range north of my house. We stopped after a mile or so when the way got a little rockier than we were prepared for. It turns out we were just a hundred yards or so from a spot where the canyon clears, and widens, and starts rolling downhill on the other side of the mountain.