• 52°

I think I’ll walk

I think I’m starting to get over that miserable dieting wall — the one that, as I have admitted in previous columns, has defeated me on any number of occasions.

I haven’t finished an entire candy bar in one sitting in months. I’ve had a few chips here and there. The processed meats have been kept to a minimum, and I’ve pretty much done away with the application of cheese.

I think I’m finally well on my way to fewer medications and less bouts with what I call U.S.S. (unintentional sweating situations).

The last piece of this whole defeating diabetes kick is getting more exercise. This is not the easy task it should be. Because for me, it’s not that I don’t want to exercise now. (I have vitamins that are starting to demand I get up and do things.) The problems are finding the time and the appropriate exercise.

On my commute to work every day, I pass a boxing gym and think to myself “I’ve seen Rocky. He looks pretty fit in the movies. Maybe I could train to box.” But every time that notion enters my mind, I remember that I’m not in my 20s anymore. It’s not the punching I have a problem with. It is potentially getting punched that really isn’t working for me. Next!

On occasion, I’ve considered taking up some of the extreme sports. I was so inspired by the children at Healthy Kids Day at the YMCA here in Suffolk last weekend. Watching the youngsters scurry up the rock wall that was set up at the event got me thinking I could scale the grand jagged structures of the world in my efforts to get fit.

Then I started thinking that probably the only thing worse than getting punched by a boxer would be smacking into a giant piece of rock at an ungodly velocity. Moving on!

So, in my quest to find just the right exercise for me, I got up early one morning and decided to take a little walk. It was a beautiful morning out on the Chesapeake Bay. That fishy smell was just faint enough to make me hungry for seafood and not make me sick.

I strolled along the sand, still laden with reminders of the last beach season, and I was suddenly energized and actually enjoying myself. So much so, I continued walking on along the street, passing an elderly gentleman walking his pooch and one of those attractive young morning joggers complete with matching pants, shirt, headband, sneakers and iPod.

And when I was done walking, my ah-ha moment tapped me right on the forehand. Duh, why don’t I just walk to get in shape? And perhaps once I’m in better shape I’ll be open to taking a punch in the face or potentially getting a facelift from a slab of rock.

Until then, you health nuts stay on that fast train to healthy living. I think I’ll walk.