I have had periods in my life when I walked a lot.  In fact, for years I used to walk daily, in my house.  The reason I walked inside was that the weather was not a factor and I could do it easily without having to think about what I would wear in public, or spend time and money going to a gym.  I would get up at 4am, put on old, comfortable clothes, along with my athletic shoes and go into my kitchen where there we had a rectangular table.  There I would begin to warm up by casually walking around the table.  I would pick up the pace and go clockwise for a while, and then turn around and go the other way.  Occasionally, I would go into my living room and circle the  chest in the middle of the room.  I would increase the pace until I felt I was sufficiently warmed up.  Then, after a while I would jog up and down the stairway leading to the second floor, before returning to the kitchen.

As I ponder this, it becomes increasingly clear why I was able to have so much energy during the entire day.  Then, one day when I was at work I started to get sharp pain in the toes of my left foot.  I went to a podiatrist and found out I had hammertoes.  Even though I knew they existed, I never knew what they were.  So I was told that the only way to completely alleviate the problem was to have surgery.  Since we had good insurance, that’s what I did.

Now comes the sad part.  I had to stay off of my feet for a couple of weeks I think.  Since I had the vacation time, that’s exactly what I did.  My mom wanted me to stay at her house so she would be able to take care of me and I wouldn’t have to get up except to go to the bathroom.  So, of course, that’s what I did.  Without having any particular thing to do or think about, I read and watched TV.  A few friends came over and brought me candy and other snacks.  I resisted for a while, and then started to eat them.  And I wanted to eat them.  My mind told me to stop but my desire for the sweet and salty things grew.

When I went home and then back to work, I still wore a boot and walked, but only as much as I needed to do.  I worked with a student all day and I went to classes with her, but that was all the walking I did.  Even after I no longer needed the boot, I had lost my drive to exercise.  I was mad at myself, but I had developed a taste for foods I shouldn’t have and I no longer had the discipline to exercise like I had before my surgery.

It’s been years since that happened. I got back into it, but not like before.  Now, I am back to purposefully walking again, but I still feel mad at myself for giving in to eating junk food and not walking every morning as I had done in the past.  It took me a lot longer to get back into doing something I loved.  But I learned something from the experience.  Now, I talk to myself and encourage myself to keep on going even when I want to stop.  And I consciously and doggedly remember that I am the one who makes the decisions in my life.