Permission

Fisher's Park. . .at the beginning of a gorgeous day.

Fisher’s Park. . .at the beginning of a gorgeous day.

Huge butterfly bush.  The little white butterflies were too fast for me.

Huge butterfly bush. The little white butterflies were too fast for me.

Welcoming bench.  I didn't sit.

Welcoming bench. I didn’t sit.

My two "girlfriends" walking up. . .as I go down.

My two “girlfriends” walking up. . .as I go down.

Is anything sadder than a dry waterfall?

Is anything sadder than a dry waterfall?

Last ten mile (in my head) incline.

Last ten mile (in my head) incline.


I have my silver car in site.  I lived!

I have my silver car in site. I lived!


Thursday, August 13, 2015
Today I am grateful for permission. It has been so beautiful the last few days that I’ve been wanting to take a walk. One thing has led to another and it never happened. This morning, after reading the newspaper, my book, watching the news on TV, making the bed, completing the grocery list, I decided to try it.

I vividly remember. . .and maybe you do, too. . .the last time I tried to take a walk. I barely made it back to the car because of hip, back, leg/sciatic, shoulder, toe pain. But that was several injections ago, so I strapped on the sneakers, grabbed the camera and headed for one of my favorite places, Fisher Park.

All the way over there, this is me, yammering to myself. . .”Okay. I’m going to do my best. I give myself permission to take the shortcuts through the woods.” The air was perfect, sunny with some merciful clouds, not too hot, even for me. I parked and started out. I know a lot of people prefer walking with others, but I’m the opposite. I don’t walk very fast and feel like I hold people back. I don’t like that. Besides I like being alone. . .with my thoughts. . .which I’ll share. . .

Okay old girl. One foot in front of the other. That’s all you have to do to keep going. If you get too tired I give you permission to rest. Oh boy. I’m a little winded already. But what a gorgeous day. Downhill. Good. Now uphill. Not so great, but I think I’ll live. What’s that noise? Crunch-crunch. . .crunch-crunch. . .crunch-crunch. Oh, my shoes on the fine gravel. Geeze. Sounds kind of cool.

Body assessment. Hip. Okay. Back/sciatic leg. Not bad. Shoulder. Okay. Arthritic toe, a little sore but bearable. Wow, I have never seen such a big butterfly bush! Gorgeous! White butterflies must be in season. How many? Ten? Twenty? Will I capture any on film. Probably not. They’re fast!

Does no one say hello? I’ve passed six people and none said “Good Morning” back to me. I give myself permission to say “hello” anyway. Hey! I didn’t have to take the shortcut through the woods. That’s good. Oh there’s a bench in the shade. Doesn’t it look inviting? That’s a great spot. I give myself permission to sit and rest. But don’t. Another steep, downward slope. Should be easier than up, but not necessarily on the bionic knees. Go slow. One foot in front of the other. Crunch-crunch. . .crunch-crunch. . .crunch-crunch.

“Hey girlfriend!” a couple of women shout to me as they are coming up the hill. We stop and chat about the beautiful weather. One says, “I know you from Weight Watchers. I’m Peggie! You’re Mary!” Right! I wish I remembered her but she’s at goal and doesn’t come that often anymore, so I don’t. It’s nice to be known, though. Off they go. . .up. Off I go. . .down.

This is the farthest part. From here it’s back. Wow. I have to keep walking. I didn’t even bring the cell phone. One foot in front of the other. Body assessment. Hip, not bad. Back/sciatic leg, a little tender, but okay. Shoulder, pretty good. Arthritic toe, annoying. What? Do I have to go to the bathroom? Oh boy. Deep breaths. Suck in your stomach. Keep moving. . .Okay, it went away. No more potty panic.

There’s a great bench by the waterfall. I give myself permission to rest there for a while.
What? No water coming over the waterfall? None? Not even a trickle. That’s bad. No point in resting here. Maybe it’s a good thing it isn’t rushing because of the afore mentioned potty possibility.

Here is the shortcut path back to the car. I give myself permission to take the short cut. Then I don’t. I walk on the concrete path. No more crunch-crunch. I kinda miss it. After this stretch there is one more, lengthy (ten miles in my brain) hill, then it’s fairly level to the car. I give myself permission to rest. . . then put one foot after the other, stopping once to touch my toes for a good back stretch. (Yes, You don’t want to be behind me, but I really can touch my toes. . .and get back up!)

Past the pavilion, back to “Go” where I get to collect $200! But no one is there to give it to me. Rats! Instead I ask a kid to take my picture, proving I was there and didn’t send some hired fool out with my camera.

It took me almost 40 minutes. It’s probably a mile and a half. . .maybe a little less. I used to do two miles in 45 minutes. That was then and this is now. I didn’t have to sit and rest. . .and I don’t think I need traction, or drugs. I do need a few ice packs. I give myself permission to be proud!

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One Response to Permission

  1. Marge Bowman says:

    Way to go, Mary! You have to feel good that you made the whole walk without stopping to sit. Now go do that every day and soon it won’t take you as long to do it. I’ve never walked at Fisher Park, but it sounds like a very nice place to walk. I will have to try it out one day. Nice pictures, too. From your pictures, the bush looked more like milkweed. If that’s what it is, the Monarch butterfly uses that as a host plant. I have some in my yard. See you later today.

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