Friends want to help me and I appreciate it. But after 50 years, I know myself pretty well. I don’t want to embark on any great fitness regime involving gyms, ellipticals, cross-training, Zumba, kickboxing, strength training, or learning to hula hoop again. These things might be wonderful for other people and I’m not casting any judgment, they’re just not things I want to do. I might go for a bike ride and I love to swim. But those are things I like to do anyway.
In keeping with this I have steadfastly resisted the well-meaning efforts of my friends to guide me into shoe stores, to find the “proper” fitness shoe. I don’t want the proper fitness shoe. I want to just walk around in the shoes I already have, and I can assure you they’re not Jimmy Choo’s. I am the girl of the sensible Mary Janes: Keen, Clark’s, Doc Martens. One friend told me I was stupid to run barefoot on the treadmill, and I agreed with her, until I happened across the literature about the “barefoot running” movement, and the scores of shoes that have been made to give people the feeling of running barefoot without having to worry so much about cutting your foot on a pop top, or slipping in dog poop. Apparently it’s supposed to help you learn to land on the ball of your foot rather than the incorrect heel strike that most of us do.
Not that I’m taking up barefoot running.
I love these women, I really do, and I appreciate that they care about me enough to offer advice. But by the time they finished this conversation about what kind of shoes I should have, I was hours behind and out of sorts to boot. As a result, I did not walk as much as I should have. This is entirely my fault. I could have gotten my ass out of my Aeron chair and moved around, but I dug my fat self into a rut instead. However, by evening, I’d gotten over my doldrums and we took the setter for a walk down along the river, and then later when I went out to Meijer, just to pick up some Brown Cow yogurt, I circumnavigated the whole store for good measure. Still, when midnight rolled around, I’d only logged 4065. Which means I won’t be able to take Sunday off.
Today’s target number is 73.6.
On the menu: blueberry yogurt with granola, one ounce dark chocolate with dried cherries and almonds, 1 hardboiled egg, banana. Steak salad for lunch (4 oz leftover New York Strip from last night, romaine, grape tomatoes, red pepper, hard boiled egg) 2 cups watermelon, 4 ounces pulled pork (no sauce) on ciabatta. Half a cup of coffee. (Not intentional, just forgot about it.)
Tonight I bought a pair of shoes.
I don’t mind them too much, they remind me a little of jazz shoes. It turns out that Mizuno has a great interactive web site where you can find out what your style of running (lol) is, and which $140 pair of shoes to buy. This shoe, well-loved by reviewers, will do for now, while I’m still learning to move.