We took the dogs out to the Trolley Park this morning, a long since discarded piece of City By the Sea social history. We were grateful for the trails developed last year that do not go right along the river, since some of those were washed out by last month’s big storm.
Molly and Sam ran through long grass (hunting for tics, according to Pure Luck) and splashed in a stream, or I should say Sam splashed and Molly took a dip.
We went down a big hill and up some smaller ones, and I managed reasonably well for someone who has just gotten back into walking. We never did get out for a walk last night after dinner, partly because
we were both exhausted from working in the yard yesterday. We committed
to going early today, both to be sure it happened and because it’s a
bit warm for the dogs this weekend. It’s a good thing I remember it gets easier, although it’s sad that for
all the beginning attempts I have made in the past, none has ever
There always seems to be plenty of room in my life to take care of others, but only occasional time to take care of my physical self. Exercise requires a different level of commitment of both time and regularity than the kind of self-care I manage to squeeze in to a busy life. I have a massage once every 4 to 6 weeks. I might have a pedicure 3 or 4 times a year. There are other little luxuries, but it is all event-based, sort of like the difference between seeing the dentist twice a year and brushing and flossing daily.
Tomorrow seems like an impossible day for walking. After church I’ll be driving to Non-Contiguous New England State to collect #1 Son from college. I guess it’s possible I’ll feel like a walk after a 7 hour round trip in the car. I’ll have to hold that thought.