Day Twelve

I have discovered that it is extremely important not to veer away from instructions. Important, knowledgeable people write instructions for things because they know things. Right? For example, people who know how to put things together write instructions. People who know how to bake a cake give us a recipe/instructions. We are given many instructions, some written and some that are passed on to us orally. Our moms all told us not to stick screwdrivers in outlets (I actually had a kid at school stick a metal paper clip into a light switch. Shocked the poo poo out of him. Not a very bright kid, I might add.) We were also instructed not to cross the street in front of cars and many, many other things. So when instructions for a 5K walking plan tells us that it is time for a day of "Low-intensity activity, 30 minutes", we should follow those instructions.

I have really become very serious about this 5K plan. I have planned my whole life around my walking time. If I walk in the morning, I want to go again at night. If someone wants me to do something, it has to fit into my walking schedule. Except if it is my dad, then I drop whatever I'm doing and jump. Like this morning when he called at 8:00 and I'm sitting here putting my shoes on and he wants me to go somewhere with him. "Yes dad". My dad is a flea market junkie. Now I haven't been to a flea market in years and that is where he wanted me to go. So he picked me up and off we went. When we go somewhere together, I usually do the driving. My father will be 79 years old on Tuesday. His driving is pretty good. He is a little scary at traffic lights, but I just kept my mouth shut except the one time when I was almost positive he didn't realize the light was red. However, after slamming on the brakes, he assured me he did . It is so very hard for me to believe that he has lived that long and that he is still in pretty good shape. He has never had any major illness. I think he did have a hernia once and he does have skin cancers occasionally, and he has a few weak joints, but other than that he is great. Just recently, he re roofed the barn at his house. I about had a heart attack. But what do you say? Dad, don't reroof the barn? No. You let him go for it and hope he doesn't fall.

So, off to the flea market we go. And we walk, and we walk, and we walk. Have you ever noticed the people at the flea market? Is this how they make a living? And where do they get all the junk they are trying to sell? Home canned goods that just reeked of botulism. Box after box of Rice-a-roni. Where do you get that many boxes of rice-a-roni? Various tools that have no meaning. Glass things from somewhere. And more used clothing than imaginable. Now, I don't know about you, but I just have trouble thinking about putting on the old clothes of a stranger. What have they done in those pants? And if you even look in the direction of some object, they immediately tell you a price. And don't even dream of making eye contact. I think they would sell you their soul.

After we strolled through a couple of times and dad had made his single big purchase, a fish net, we headed back home.

Now my walking plan for the day was to walk from my house to the Armory. Just 2 miles. But two miles is for sissies. I can do two miles easy these days. Before two weeks ago the only way I could have walked two miles and called it easy was if you dangled a cheeseburger in front of me. So when I got to the Armory, I decided to turn and walk a little way up Mountain Street. But I keep going and going. One more block, one more block. I finally made a right turn onto Cherokee Street. You know, that little street past Griffin drug. Then I turned right on Gold and crossed over the rail road tracks and headed on home. Now I was ok until about halfway down Gold Street. That's when my foot started aching. Of course I have no choice but to keep going. And I do. When I reached Phifer and headed toward the high school, that road seemed to be miles long. It was very hard for the last mile. I thought I would surely pass out going up killer hill on Maner, but I finally reached the crest and headed into my neighborhood. It felt like forever before I reached my house and then I collapsed on the porch for about 10 minutes. This was the farthest I had ever walked at one time without stopping. I may have over done it today. My left foot with the issues is killing me. But, maybe after a long soak in the whirlpool tub, I'll feel better.

Lesson learned? Follow instructions. If it says "Low-intensity activity for 30 minutes" do a low intensity activity for 30 minutes. Save the 4.2 miles for when you are instructed to do so. Somebody smart wrote this plan. I'm sure of it!!!