Walk is a four letter word

I am happily pre-senile but I have realized that I do need to get up off my fat bum and go for a' walk.'  (Actually I don't have a fat bum, I have a fat stomach.)  The only exercise that I can afford to do is, wait for it, 'walk.'  Now that I have finished studying and have lots of time I have promised myself that I will go for a 'walk' every day.  I know if I stop for even one day I will turn back into couch potato Cushie.

'Walk' is the ultimate four letter word for me.  I don't want to 'walk' it is boring.  I do take the little old dog and he seems quite chuffed about it all really.  I also have a mp3 that I can listen to, to pass the miserable time and stop me thinking about rubbish that happened a lifetime ago.  I would like to 'walk' with someone but most of my friends work so I don't have access to a fellow 'walking' sufferer.  Why oh why does the exercise have to be 'walking.'  I can skate, roller and ice but of course when you are sixty-six you do tend to worry about falling, however that is the perfect exercise for me because I love it.  The other problem is that I got rid of my skates about ten years ago so I don't have that option available any-more anyway.

'Walking' is cheap the only cost is shoe leather.  'Walking' is not bad for your body, you cannot 'do a hammy' or tear a muscle.  'Walking' is great exercise and even better if you 'power walk.'  I may be forcing myself to 'walk' but no-where in my contract with myself do I state anywhere that I am 'power walking.'  I do not 'walk' at speed, I sort of amble and try not to fall over the dog's lead.

So here we are, little old Herbie and I taking Shank's pony.  I think I have said before in another blog that Shank had no pony he walked.   So everyday we set out together with a nice big plastic bag for him,  (we are not in the habit of leaving dog poo on the path) plus a large bottle of water for me.  The real reason and only reason that I have decided to walk is that the child of my loins does not want me to fall off the perch yet.  As I can feel bits of my body starting to seize up I guess that I should do something about it even if it does consist of the most awful exercise in the whole world.  Free but crappy!

In conclusion, I state again, I HATE WALKING.'

PS.  I knew it would happen.  I walked for three days and then turned back into a fat lazy old woman.  I need a carer to come and make me walk.  They don't have to do anything but force me up out of bed and drag me kicking and screaming along the linear park.  Why oh why am I so lazy?