I hobble and hitch. An old mare, good for nothing more than putting out to pasture. I forget, sometimes. My filly heart still wanting to frolic. And then the ping in the hip flexor. The moan of the knee.
Walking more than anything else reminds me of my age. And my weight. And my general neglect of my physical health. After two years of stuffing down my feelings with food, my body has begun to object.
I meet up with UberCoach. Smell the sunshine, or the wind off the water. Try to keep up her not-any-younger-but-much-more-willing legs. Focus on gratitude for the company. I hitch and hobble, and look forward to another Sunday wander.