Walking but not Running

I've been walking.  My orthopedist has said that I'm allowed.

Before I became a runner, I used to walk almost every day.  My friend (who at the time was my neighbor) and I used to get up early on days off work and go walking on a trail by my house.  It was so peaceful and beautiful.  The hills on the path really worked my glutes and my legs, and at the end of four, five, or six miles, I felt exhilarated.

There have been days when I would run that same path and think, "Wow, I wish I were walking again.  That was really nice."

I am here to say that I was wrong. Walking when you wish you could run is pure torture.  Trying to get a cardio workout in by walking like a damned duck sucks out loud.  While I have never been self-conscious about how I look when running (even though I will never run like a gazelle), I am absolutely certain that everyone who looks at me while I'm walking is laughing his/her head off.

This is EXACTLY how I look when I run.  Except I'm not a dude.

Surely, I am exaggerating.  Surely, I don't look that bad when I walk.

This is EXACTLY how I look when I walk.  I seem so happy.

I know; don't call me Shirley.  (Any Airplane fans here?)

So, anyway, the weather on Saturday was beautiful, and I took advantage of it by walking a four-mile loop.  It felt great to blow out the dust that had settled in my soul, and it was nice to get out of the house and listen to Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me without my daughter interrupting Mo Rocca's punchline to tell me about what the cousin of the neighbor of some kid on the bus did when she was in second grade.

I proudly added those four miles to my dailymile total.  I try not to think of the fact that I could have run those miles in much less time.  I try to be grateful that I can walk at all.  In a week I will have my next x-ray, and I worry that I'll have to get surgery, so I should really try to appreciate walking right now.

It is close to Thanksgiving, and I am thankful for walking.