So I went for a really great walk the other day. I think it was Friday… no, Saturday… anyway- I went for a fab walk. It wasn’t a pansy stroll- nope- I walked hard. And for a long time too. I didn’t break from a near speed-walk for over an hour and a half. Damn it felt good! With my iPod Mini as a personal trainer and a photocopied map, (of the wrong section of town), in my pocket, I was a veritable example of the drive for self-improvement. The wind was perfect, the sun was shining, the flowers and trees greeting warm spring air with opening petals and outstretched limbs… If fitness always felt that good, I’d have no trouble trimming back down a couple of sizes to where I was last summer. I only regretted not having better shoes for my impromptu excursion. I need new shoes for this purpose if it’s to continue… I had an old pair of Vans on, but really, those were from my skateboarding days and never designed for walking in the fitness sense. Perhaps I’ll scrounge some up in town… My feet hurt, but the pure and simple high of what I’d accomplished outshone the mild discomfort I felt in the balls of my feet and toes. I was a salt-flavoured goddess…
I went to sleep last night telling myself, “jEN- you’re gonna walk that ass around town again… burn another 430 calories, (or so the online calculator estimated for my last tour), get some better shoes, get lost again, (oooh- I didn’t mention that did I… heh heh), and feel like the dominatrix of physical health you’re meant to be…”
It’s 20 degrees (F) colder and raining today.
I think I want a pizza.
Fuck. This is harder than I thought…