My clothes felt a little baggy on me last night as I trudged up 19th, past the Hilton. I was bit heavier in step, and each hurt. Stopped at the corner market, lugged the milk home, then cheated: took the elevator the rest of the way.
But this morning, my step was light again. I practically ran to the Metro. Walked up the escalator at Bethesda: sixty steps before my legs burned and I stopped. Last week, I could only do fifty. Next week, I’ll be doing seventy.
And this weekend! Oh, I was so disappointed, reading the weather reports. I had assumed that the rain would keep me from walking, and this was disappointing because when it comes to exercise, oh how I hate the gym. But please give me the opportunity to walk the streets of this lovely city, to and from whatever my destinations might be. Work. Grocery.
And okay — it wasn’t sunny. It wasn’t a weekend that screamed, “Spend me outside!” But spend it outside is indeed what I did, as much as possible.
Okay, not so possible when you’ve got to work your part-time job both days. But both days, when I stepped outside to catch the bus or run to the Metro, I realized: Hey, this is good walking weather. Not perfect walking weather, but good walking weather. So I did. And both days, when work was over, I realized: hey, this is good walking weather. So I did.
According to Google maps, it’s 2 miles from my apartment to my part-time job. Both days, I varied my route home, came up 19th, over through Kalorama, added .2 miles to my route. 8.4 miles over the course of the weekend, 8.4 more miles than I’d expected to walk.
I haven’t walked every day of the last week: Sunday I called out, didn’t feel well, same for Monday, flu (was in bed by 4pm, slept 12 hours). I didn’t work Tuesday night, got off at Dupont Circle on my way home from my day job, walked west (and then north) on Mass Ave, rounded Observatory Circle on my way home, spied the Cathedral in the background (2.7 miles); Wednesday night I was getting over the flu, I caught the L2 home. Thursday I walked. 2.2 miles. Felt great.
Weighed myself this morning, with every one of those 13.3 miles working with me, and Thursday’s lunch at Chipotle against. Last week, after I wrote my resolutions post, I’d stepped on the scale: 259, it said. This morning it said: 252.5. That’s a good start, don’tcha think?