The first "kind of" cool day returned and immediately, the thought of walking along the track came to mind.
Yeah, that's right. The thought came to mind with the words "Cool weather's back? Hit the track, Jack."
Know where I was when this thought popped up? Laying down on the couch in my comfy living room.
It was a resident teenager who said, "Come on, let's go to the track. Now."
"The track?" I asked in a barely audible voice. I really wanted to ask, "Why?"
The teen persisted.
"Okay, okay," I reluctantly agreed. "I'll go get my walking shoes on." Speedy Gonzalez I was not. Maybe the teen would change her mind if I stalled. Didn't work.
Once at the track, walking felt good. Now here's a little game I played before hot weather came and I quit going to the track.
At a certain point on the track, where the number 3000 can be seen, my walking turned into jogging for a very short distance (probably less than one tenth of a mile). This was an effort to help with burning more calories and, therefore, losing weight.
So the first night back at the track, upon reaching that dreadful number---3000---, I began to jog with as much enthusiasm as a crippled hippopotamus jogging to the water.
"Ohmygosh," I gasped as my body jogged. "This is hard." My gaze was on the spot where the jogging was supposed to end. My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. My lungs were on fire. It was hard to take a single breath.
DO YOU WALK ON A TRACK WHERE YOU LIVE?