(Nearly) Dead Man Walking

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3,112 steps.

That's how far it is to walk from my house to my former office. Technically, it's 3,112 steps, seven sits, three coughing fits, and enough sweat to fill a gallon jug. When you are as out of shape as I am, the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other and then doing it again can become a bit challenging.

Actually, the walking isn't all that challenging because going really slow is always an option. It's the strategy of taking a walk without looking pathetic that is the challenge. My goals this morning were simple. One, get to the office to retrieve my car. Two, not have some Good Samaritan observe me and call an ambulance. Three, have enough breath to be able to say, "Bugger off," to anyone asking if I need help.

I had considered adding a fourth - not let anyone more than 15 years older than me pass me - but decided not to be competitive. It turns out that was a very good idea, on at least two occasions.

I had really underestimated how out of shape I was, and I ended up resorting to a bit of play-acting to avert total humiliation this morning. I hadn't gone all that far before it felt that my lungs were about to schedule a stop-work meeting, I stopped walking but quickly pulled out my mobile phone and read a message. Mind you, they were messages from weeks ago that I had already read (and have now read five or six times).

Anyhow, I was hoping anyone seeing me would think, "That guy stopped walking because he just got a text message." I do realize it's far more likely that they thought, "That big guy over there gasping for air is probably dialling an ambulance." But at least I felt I was able to gasp with a shred of dignity.

That is part of the problem with this walking-as-exercise bit. It's very public and I cannot get past the feeling that total strangers are looking at me and deducting style points faster than the Russian judge when the Bulgarians are on the high beam.

For example, I had noticed that most of the early morning walkers and joggers listened to music. So I planned to listen to my iPod, but I only got halfway through the first Credence song before I saw my reflection in a shop window. It hit me that there was a Grand Canyon-sized gulf between the hip, slick, slim iPod listeners dancing to the music in their ears on Apple's ads and an overweight, bald guy bent at the waist gasping for air. I took out the ear pods and put them in my pocket.

But I know that this will all get much better if I just stick to it. So my goal is to follow the advice of Mr John Walker and Sons and "Just Keep Walking".