I ran distance track and cross country back in the ’60s, when a lonely jogger on roads or open fields was regarded as either a freak or a criminal. For about a decade I kept it up afterwards. Then I began transitioning to long walks and never looked back. I’ve had no desire to get into the current competitive mania of training and races.
For the last 50 years, I’ve constantly walked for long distances. Not mountain trekking or overnight excursions, but a nice comfortable 4 to 10 miles off and on, 2 miles or so a day usually. Admittedly I have slowed down some now and 5 miles or so is a long distance. With pauses.
Never, in all that time, have I tried “power walking” or ” “brisk” as my wife keeps claiming we need. I move comfortably steadily thinking and seeing, amazed at how good it all feels and how rapidly ground can be covered by an easy human exercise.
Generally, I admit to “exercise,” but the real reason is to calm my soul. I do usually feel better physically, when I return, I usually sleep better, digestion improves. But it’s my mind, senses, memory, imagination I am exercising even more. I glory in existence as I rarely do sitting on a couch.
No abs of steel, bunched biceps, or infinite endurance. Just a little old walk for little old me. One of the best habits I ever acquired.
HuntingtonHarborThoughts 