I've been walking. Not running. Just walking.
A few weeks ago my knee reminded me why regular running hasn't worked for me in a long time. Just when I get back in a groove, some nagging part of my body shuts me down.
I like to move, but move quickly. It takes patience to walk. Even the dog leans forward, pulling (though he's trained not too), straining to pick up the pace. He looks back at me. Why aren't we jogging his face asks. "I can't," I say out loud to him and the pavement and the trees and anyone who will listen. He and I are both happier when we take to the trails and the mountains. There it's okay to slow down. He is off leash and so am I. My mind doesn't race on the trail. It's distracted by the landscape and sounds. It has a job to do. Watch out for rocks, snakes, bears. My brain is simultaneously soothed and stimulated in the woods. It might just be the best form of therapy.
This morning we walked. While the car was being worked on we hoofed it to a nearby neighborhood around a small lake and walked three miles. The exercise felt good, the fresh air felt good, the chill that has finally hit our mornings felt good. But being on pavement, walking past houses, listening for traffic...none of that calmed me. I came away from our walk even more wound up than when I started. Which means its settled. I can no longer walk. I'll just have to hike.