I recently returned from a walk. The weather has turned out to be really lovely the past few days, and I believe walking season is upon us. Those who really know me may find my saying this a bit odd. See, I’ve been out of shape for… well… most of my life, with a few pockets of decent physical health here and there (a period in high school when I did a lot of weight lifting, a good portion of my life in Australia, especially using a bike as my main mode of transport in Launceston, Tasmania—if you’ve been there, you realise the insanity of that statement). About two years ago, I had a really good streak of almost unexplained weight loss (well, perhaps not entirely unexplained… I had gone off of soda, and I had an extremely high level of stress in my life, which makes me ill, which in turn makes me lose weight), where I lost about 30 lbs. It hit me recently how often, though, I’ve used that weight loss to excuse my current shape.
“Oh, I may seem “stocky” now, but you should have seen me a two years ago! I lost like 30 lbs!”
To be honest, I haven’t gone anywhere since. And my current weight/shape is nothing to be proud of. Being under 190lbs is a good thing, especially since I was, at that fabled point a few years ago, 225lbs (and I’m 5’10”, by the way); Yet, it isn’t something to be proud of. When I weigh myself, the thought has been hitting me in the back of the head: You realise how easily you could start gaining that weight back, don’t you?
Well, I’m doing something about it. The other day, I went to Gateway to return some ill-fitting shirts and pick up Scrubs season one @ Virgin Mega. I had some parking validations, so I parked in the lot at the top of Gateway, only to discover the store I was headed for was nearly at the very bottom of the open air mall. Not a big deal, really, but I was trying to get all this done before a show @ 7:30. So I briskly walked down to exchange my shirt. After the exchange, I asked the guy at the store if there happened to be a “Buckle” in the complex (I had assumed my other shirts would have to be returned to the one by my house).
“Sure. Right across the street.”
Crap. I would have to walk all the way back to my car, and then right back to the same area. Oh, and then back to my car. Oh well, I figured, it would save me a trip to yet another mall (one which is no where near as pleasant as the Gateway). So off I trudged. Clothes exchanged, and a slight bead of perspiration on my forehead, I headed back up to the top of the complex for my scheduled browsing of Virgin Mega’s stock and then off to the show. I purchased Scrubs and some CDs, then discovered I was famished. I hadn’t eaten all day, and Kilby is notorious for stocking only soda and chips, so eating at the show was out. I looked at my watch; I had time to grab something at the food court and take it to the show. It was when I started walking down that I realised the food court was in roughly the same area that I had just visited twice in the past hour.
Chinese food purchased and the length of the mall traversed yet again, I returned to my car, now visibly sweating—my forehead is notorious for profuse sweating. I wiped the sweat from my eyes and drove to Kilby. That was that.
Or was it? This was a bad sign. Sure, it was warm and sunny out, and that really was a fair deal of walking, but come on, Greg! You’re only 24 and you’re complaining about some walking! This changes now. I just returned from a nice 45 minute walk—and by walk, I’m talking at a brisk pace… otherwise, it’s just a stroll. And you know what? It felt great. Sure, I’m sweating as I had the time before (more, actually), but I’m not ashamed of this sweat. This is good sweat. And it’ll save my life.
As a side note, the first song from my iPod to catch my attention on my walk? Ted Leo, Walking To Do. How appropriate.
actually…i got your text WHILE i was being fired. after work. while walking to starbucks. so its ok. your text didn’t contribute. rest easy my friend. and i forgot how sucky a missionary’s birthday can be. woops. now i feel bad for complaining.
oh yeah that’s right. i was typing a reply to you and never finished and sent it because as i was typing it outside of starbucks, i got the “youre fired from your temp job call.” and i went into hysterics over my crappy birthday and called my mom and chris and wah wah wahed all over them while i drove to my next job. sorry about that. im retarded. i even remember what my reply was. it was something to the effect of, “thank you! muaha…now i have your number. watch out.” and after that, i was going to save your number. never got to that part. so what is it? cause my old phone’s screen is broken and i can’t see it to copy it.
phew.
that was a lot.
go speed racer go!
me like-um that doors song.
whee whee whee.
pee pee pee.