Exactly one month ago today I started my “Walk a Mile Every Day for a Year Campaign.” I’d read somewhere that if you did this for a year, and didn’t change anything else about your diet or your exercise regimen, that you could lose ten easy pounds.
It’s not that easy.
I’m one-twelfth of the way home, but I haven’t lost one-twelfth of the ten pounds. In fact, I seem to have gained a couple pounds for my efforts. So I think maybe I need to put the scale away until the year is up. After all, I can tell how my clothes fit without a mathematical reading.
I’ve walked in the cold, in the rain, in the wind, and – occasionally – in gorgeous sun. I’ve walked in the morning as the sun tries to escape Michigan clouds. I’ve walked in the afternoon when it’s catching up with them again. And I’ve walked at mid-day under the assumption that that is when the sun is its warmest and most inviting.
I read somewhere that if you do something consistently for twenty-one days, then it becomes a part of you. Perhaps like a birthmark. Well, I’m past that target date, but walking is still hard. Maybe, because of my age, I need to go for one hundred twenty-one days.
At the same time, I am slowly beginning to look forward to my daily mile. Not just in a physical way, but in a mental way. It has become a time when I mentally plan or meditate or simply think about situations I’m in and their resolutions. It’s a time when the phone can’t get me, and the television and radio talk guys are silenced. My legs and arms create a certain rhythm and eventually my mind gets in step.
Encouraged with this slow progress and eager to keep my daily record intact, I continue to move forward, one day at a time, one mile at a time.
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