D e s e r t E x p o s u r e 
January
2008
Diary of a Streetwalker
The story of how one woman lost pounds and found peace through a promise that turned into a healthy addiction.
By Donna Clayton Lawder
One full year ago, I made myself a New Year's promise that I managed to keep for the duration of 2007. You'll note that I call it a "promise," not a "resolution." Too often, like so many earnest souls intent on self-improvement, I've set Big Goals For the New Year, then widely broadcast my resolutions, perhaps hoping the watchful eyes of my co-workers, friends and spouses would help me keep to the virtuous path.
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The author climbing La Capilla. (Photo
by Lisa D. Fryxell) |
But, come on, breaking New Year's resolutions is such a common experience that people joke about it. You've heard it in line at the grocery store, around the water cooler at work — "yeah, that didn't last" or "so much for my resolutions — often by the second week of January!
For this whole past year, however, I did manage to "keep to the virtuous path" — quite literally, for my promise to myself was simply "to walk more."
I cannot tell you exactly how many miles I purposefully traversed in 2007. After a while, I abandoned my self-styled "Motivation Journal," stopped recording my meals and miles on the online Progress Monitor with its nifty caloric-metabolic-BMI calculator. The walking itself, you see, became its own reward — if not a downright addiction. How I began to feel — and what I saw in the mirror — became motivation enough.
Over the course of this past year, walking has helped me to lose some 15 pounds, significantly lower my blood pressure and find a sense of spaciousness in my busy life. I've accumulated a bunch of neat gear and discovered corners of my neighborhood and new spots from which to admire the light on the mountains and catch a good sunset.
There's also been a bit of drama, as I have fended off some pretty scary dogs and their even scarier owners. And one fine morning I even was hit by a car!
As we all look to a New Year filled with promise, I'd like to share my experiences. My hope is that by revealing my own simple, well, steps, I might help to encourage you along the path to improved health and wellbeing.
Besides, then I get to write off all these sneakers and spandex outfits, right?
In the Beginning: Winter
When 2007 dawns, my blood pressure is tickling the high side of normal, around 140 over 88. Coming from a family full of hypertensives, I've kept a watchful, slightly nervous eye on my blood pressure since I hit adulthood. Let's add to this picture the fact that you can't swing an insulin syringe without hitting diabetics in my immediate and extended family. Mom, grannies, aunts and cousins — there's hardly a woman in my family who's not a diabetic.
Not being able to do much about my family tree, it seems like a good idea to work on the things I can control. Besides, who's to say where heredity leaves off and habit picks up? Along with the obvious blood connection, I can't help but note that a lot of the Walter Women from whom I'm descended share a love of big meals, sweets and sitting around, gabbing on the phone. Many of my cousins put on the pounds during pregnancy and just never took them off, a known risk factor for The Big D.
As a writer of lifestyle and health articles for a national newsletter, I've read many studies, done a lot of research, and am well aware of the impact and importance of exercise — that dirty word that either bores or stymies so many of us. So I make myself a promise to up my physical activity in 2007. No big mileage goals or magic numbers. Just a commitment to myself to get out and walk regularly — OK, very regularly — and keep at it.
I keep my goals reasonable and flexible: I'll walk for at least 15 minutes at a time, and I'll do it several times a week. Hey, set myself up for success, not failure, right?
And so, remarkably soon after 2007 begins, I buy myself a new pair of sneakers and find myself actually lacing them up one startlingly crisp January morning. I must have an air of excitement or determination about me, as my husband asks what I am doing. Going for a walk, I reply.
"Really?" He looks incredulous. But then, to be fair, this is a man who's heard me complain about cold weather for 21 winters, who's seen me circle the grocery store parking lot, angling for the closest possible space.
"Yes, really," I say.
I'm wearing sweat pants and couple of layers of shirts, including my old green Eastern Mountain Sports shirt, my favorite for outdoor athletic activity. This high-tech "miracle fabric" garment is nearly 17 years old now. I think it must be made from the bodies of ground-up space aliens, being an indescribable green color; after all these years, it still warms me when it's cold outside, cools me when I start to overheat, wicks away sweat and stops drafty breezes. Certainly it can repel Klingon warriors and more. Who could fail wearing such a fine shirt?, I think, and step out into the blinding winter sunlight. OK, it's cold.
I've never been much for stretching before activity, much to my high-school track coach's disapproval. True to form, I launch right into hoofing it up the street this brittle morning, certain that once I get moving I'll be warm enough.
One of the wonderful things about walking, the experts will tell you, is that it requires so little gear, no gym and can pretty much be done whenever and wherever one chooses. Here in the southwestern corner of New Mexico, we are blessed with "four gentle seasons," as the Chamber of Commerce likes to say. Once the sun is up, it's a rare winter day that's too cold for walking. In summer, one can avoid the heat by walking in the cool of the morning. During monsoon season, plan to be back before the afternoon thunderheads roll in.
I think about how lucky I am to have so many walking options right outside my door. I live in the Silver Heights neighborhood, up behind where the old hospital long stood. That's Silver Heights — get it? It's easy to find a gently inclining street around here, and I choose the one that runs up behind the neighborhood. I find plenty of challenge in just making it to the top and back, and I take my full 15 minutes to complete the loop back to my front door.
Now that my legs are warmed up, I decide to stretch out on the living room rug, a fresh cup of coffee my reward. That wasn't too bad, I think.