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Eagle Over the Kennebec
Wednesday, April 28th, 2004 12:02 pm...a single adult, spiraling lazily upward into the blue-and-white sky. I watched him until the traffic light turned to green.
According to the nice ladies at the gym, I've lost 12 pounds since I started this particular project, back in August. That's nice, but not the purpose of the exercise, which was to build bone mass on the right hip (Cue Eric Burdon: "Oh,mothers, teach your daughters/Not to grow to six foot high..."). I suppose there's another bone density scan in my future. Not in my near future, however.
I've been a Walker for most of my life, thinking nothing of racking up a couple miles on an evening stroll. That was when I lived in the city. Out here in the country, paradoxically, walking is something of a problem. No sidewalks, of course, and the town does its utmost to keep the shoulders of the "big" (everything being relative) road behind us as soft as possible, making it difficult to walk on. Not to mention the log trucks, SUVs, half-rusted pickups, motorcycles and delivery vans that zip along the road at upwards of 60 miles an hour.
We won't even discuss hunting season.
I went into the whole gym experience thinking of exercise as an unpleasant task that needed to be done. Somewhat to my amazement, I've found not only that the exercise itself wasn't as nasty as I'd envisioned, but I actually -- "like" is probably not the word I want, here... Aha! "Care about" going and doing my thing three times a week. It's nice to have a schedule, in a weird way. Even one that requires me to get up early.
According to the nice ladies at the gym, I've lost 12 pounds since I started this particular project, back in August. That's nice, but not the purpose of the exercise, which was to build bone mass on the right hip (Cue Eric Burdon: "Oh,mothers, teach your daughters/Not to grow to six foot high..."). I suppose there's another bone density scan in my future. Not in my near future, however.
I've been a Walker for most of my life, thinking nothing of racking up a couple miles on an evening stroll. That was when I lived in the city. Out here in the country, paradoxically, walking is something of a problem. No sidewalks, of course, and the town does its utmost to keep the shoulders of the "big" (everything being relative) road behind us as soft as possible, making it difficult to walk on. Not to mention the log trucks, SUVs, half-rusted pickups, motorcycles and delivery vans that zip along the road at upwards of 60 miles an hour.
We won't even discuss hunting season.
I went into the whole gym experience thinking of exercise as an unpleasant task that needed to be done. Somewhat to my amazement, I've found not only that the exercise itself wasn't as nasty as I'd envisioned, but I actually -- "like" is probably not the word I want, here... Aha! "Care about" going and doing my thing three times a week. It's nice to have a schedule, in a weird way. Even one that requires me to get up early.
