(To the tune of "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music)
Rain drops on ice and slush in my socks,
Inky black darkness and cars that can't stop,
Soaking wet mittens, my windshield's all gray,
These are the reasons I won't walk today!
It was only a few months ago that I swore to myself that this winter, I would fight the nearly inevitable winter blahs, by among other things, taking a walk first thing every morning. My doctor prescribed this regimen last year and it really helped. I took the postal carriers' motto as my own and was out there in almost every kind of weather, allowing myself to skip only a few truly foul mornings. I felt good and I was proud of myself for saying I would do something and following through.
As I drove home last night I realized, not only had I not gone for a walk in days, but I had absolutely no plans to break that streak by going out in the slush and rain. Where was the stubborn fortitude I'd summoned up last year? Just how wimpy have I become? I certainly have the appropriate gear to make such a walk reasonably safe and dry, if not actually fun.
And there it was. I walk for many reasons, but enjoyment is top on the list. Why should I turn something that I love into a chore by forcing myself to do it when my heart isn't in it? Because I said I would. The answer popped into my mind almost before I finished forming the question. With that the opposition rested. I said I would walk every day. I made a promise to myself, and even mentioned it here on the blog. What possible rebuttal could there be?
I was fighting with the lock of my door, rain and roof melt pouring down the collar of my coat, when I asked myself, how important is it? How could it possibly matter, to anyone, if I took a walk in this mess or not? If I wanted some exercise I could clean house, or better yet, do some yoga. Adjusting the plan to fit the needs of the day is not failure; it's healthy.