When I started to walk for exercise two years ago, it was a struggle.
There was little doubt in my mind I would die somewhere on the chicken house road, where I’d begun to walk a loop for 30 minutes.
The first week I drank water and walked every day, I lost eight pounds.
When I got home after a walk the first week, I remember I was drenched with sweat. I felt as if my ribs would ram their way between the bones of their cage and poke through my skin.
The walks got easier. I could breathe, and I began to believe I’d live through them.
Eventually, I worked my way up to walk four miles a day.
Then, I stopped.
Last night, I started again.
I walked for 53 minutes.
Halfway through, I was drenched with sweat.
I grabbed air in gasps and gulps.
My heart pounded.
My ribs threatened to cut through my side.
More than once toward the end, I had no doubt I’d die right there in my driveway.
I was wrong again and I lived, but it was not an easy block of time.
I know from past experience, though, how this works.
I know the walks will get better as time goes by.
I know exercise will get easier again.
I have no doubt.
This post is a response to Sue’s prompt, which is “doubt.”