As I write this column, it has been one week to the day since I last dabbled in my old addiction.
I had given it up for more than 20 years and then I started feeling over-confident. I could do it. It would OK. It would feel great. I am a new and improved person, I decided.
I strapped on my walking shoes, waved a wand and dubbed them running shoes. Then I hit the streets with my watch measuring my steps, my pace and my heartrate.
Four houses down the street, my heart rate had zoomed to over 150.
Read the full article in the Oct. 1 issue of the Navarre Press.