One of the challenges I have with this blog is thinking of things to write about. Sometimes there is a clear event or piece of progress I want to share. Most of the time, I worry about boring everyone. This is because, basically, my work toward getting healthy is pretty boring. I'm not doing anything fantastic or interesting from day-to-day. I stretch. I walk. I try to eat less and I try to eat better. I work to stay motivated. That's about it.
In spite of the dullness, I do have moments of pure enjoyment and clarity. These come as I'm walking each day. My mind wanders and I have the opportunity to enjoy some quiet and some time to contemplate without four people vying for my attention. Sometimes my mind wanders into interesting places. This is the case of the other morning as I thought of how I might narrate that small portion of my walk. It went something like this:
"I trod along, my feet moving methodically as I propel myself forward. The sidewalk is occasionally uneven and broken. The extra effort it takes to move around the cracks and lifted corners of the cement breaks my concentration and awakens the dull throb in my left knee. The pain is slight and I remind myself that it will be temporary--as I keep moving forward I will notice it less and less until the day comes when it is no longer there. I lift my head to look around in an attempt to move my focus away from my feet. My imagination is suddenly captured by the vibrant colors of the leaves. The trees are in full autumn dress--blushing reds, royal yellows and dying browns. I wonder at the hues so bright in the morning sun. Do the trees revel in their colorful splendor? What color would I choose, were I given the choice? Is there a sadness being expressed in the loss of summer green, or only joy at the knowledge that winter death will bring spring renewal?
I become distracted from my musings by a barking dog in a nearby yard. I have grown accustomed to the barking but offer a silent apology to any still-sleeping neighbors as I pass by. I quicken my steps and the throbbing continues in my knee. My legs, too, are feeling the work and the muscles are getting sore. It just means they are getting stronger I remind myself. Keep pushing forward--you are strong and you are capable and this will get easier. I quietly cheer myself on and imagine the day when I can run down these streets in ease. I pass under a catalpa tree, the dark brown seed pods making a satisfying crunch under my pink-and-black sneakers. I smile at the sound.
Turning a corner, I awake a small group of black crickets. They scurry away at my approach, barely making the short hop into the grass before I pass by. As I see the crickets, I recall that my daughter, Layla, had recently asked if she could catch some to take to school. She was very excited to announce that, if she brought a live cricket to class, she would get a piece of candy. When I had asked what the crickets were for, she explained that they would be lunch for the class tarantula, Tula. A couple of days later, Layla captured an unfortunate cricket on the way to school. She placed it in the side pocket of her backpack--a fine specimen to be devoured for sure. I realize that I had failed to ask Layla how this turned out. Did the cricket make it to class okay? Were all of the legs still attached as it arrived? Was Tula pleased with the offering? I make a mental note to ask about this later and continue on my walk."
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