When Two Miles Is More Than Two Miles
So, I used to walk a lot. In 2007 I walked all of the darn time. At first, because I was rehabing from my back surgery and then because I figured out to con Adam into another Disney trip, I better have a good scheme, and thus, decided to walk the 1/2 marathon there in January. In the few months leading up to the race, I was walking a good 20-25 miles a week.
So, it being a beautiful day out in the greater Seattle area, and the fact that the boys refused to nap for more than 45 minutes, which was slowly driving me insane, I thought to take them on a walk along with me.
I bundled them up in their carseats, and headed down to the trailhead.
I thought that two miles would be a good goal, considering it was getting close to their afternoon feeding,
and I felt like I could make it back in plenty of time. What I failed to calculate was the fact that I wasn’t just
walking. Oh no, I was walking and pushing roughly 80 pounds of stoller, carseat and baby. It is no wonder it
took me FAR longer than it should have to cover that distance and why my wrists were quite unhappy last
night.
Regardless of the time involved, the walk was awesome, and the boys slept through most of it. I call that a win.
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