Most of my life I have depended on my legs to get me where I want to go. We lived in Southeast D.C. until I was eight years old and then moved five minutes outside the city, where we could still walk to stores, bakeries, the library, movie theater, and school. I relied on my ability to get where I needed to be; my first job with a paycheck was at the local library in part because I could make the mile walk if I had to.
My first home in Maine afforded me the same luxury. I walked everywhere, and my kids did too. They all walked to middle school and high school because they didn't like to ride the bus. We often hit the pavement as a family to rent a movie or get an ice cream. If I timed it right I could do all my errands on foot within a mile of my house. I liked being on the move while being productive and self-reliant.
When we moved to our current home in the woods on a dirt road I was determined to find a way to continue walking. I measured out a mile in each direction and bought good walking shoes. Rain made the road muddy and winter was impossible due to ice. Potholes were ever present. Some days Ken and I would drive into town, park the car, and walk neighborhood streets. It was an occasional activity but not a working solution.
So after several months we invested in a treadmill. I thought Ken might use it too, but it isn't his cup of tea. I took to it immediately. We set it up in the family room because while I walk I like to be distracted, if not by the goings on along the road then by a movie or television show. [The early years in this house we had only the tv for entertainment because internet was slow and useless for streaming. That situation has vastly improved, and I am spoiled with the internet access we currently have.] The most recent treadmill placement was ideal because it was out of the way and easily accessible, so there was no excuse not to use it. I was walking daily....
until our issue with the water this summer. We had to empty the two rooms downstairs and most things, including the treadmill, found a place in the garage. The treadmill was still set up but it wasn't as inviting surrounded by furniture, boxes, tools, and recyclables. A couple days a week I would climb on and clock a couple miles, but the experience lacked the appeal it once had...
until this week. When we started putting the downstairs back together I suggested we keep the treadmill in the garage. While it isn't my favorite setting, I like the space we allowed ourselves as we intentionally moved furniture back into the family and sitting rooms. I purged all the things under and behind furniture, and we rearranged to maximize room to move. I just needed to find a way to feel the same intention with the treadmill, and with Ken's help we made that happen too. It took awhile but we cleared out the clutter and this week I climbed aboard, grateful to feel the movement under my feet. I am determined to keep moving. Some recent mishaps have reminded me that I am lucky to get up and go as I wish.
More on that next time~
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