… I'm addicted to steps. Anyone that has seen me lately has seen my permanent fixation, an omnipresent pedometer tracking my every movement as I look to shed a few pounds. I think the column speaks for itself. Keep checking the blog for step updates as I work toward my goal of 2 million steps in 2004.
Like Rush Limbaugh, it’s time to come clean about my compulsive behavior.
I’m addicted to steps.
It’s not a fancy new designer drug. I mean steps, as in walking. Just simple steps, counted obsessively on my new pedometer.
The goal is 10,000 steps a day, about 4.73 miles at 30 inches per step. The only places I haven’t worn the pedometer since I bought it in late October are bed, the shower and on a rental tux while I was best man for my college roommate’s wedding.
Not that I didn’t try to wear the pedometer during the wedding (those 30 steps down the aisle would have been nice to add the tally). It’s just that the tuxedo pants were too far up on my waist for the pedometer to register anything.
At the end of every day, I take the pedometer off my belt and write down the steps I’ve taken for the day as well as the equivalent mileage. I’ve topped 10,000 a handful of times, with most of my good days falling in the 8,500 range and my bad days at the 2,500 level.
I’ve learned that when I’m walking at top pace, I can get about 100 to 120 steps per minute, meaning an hour-long walk nets about 6,250 precious steps.
At work, I try to pad my step count by parking at the back of the company parking lot. When I have to go to the county administration building or city hall, I employ the same technique. I try to walk whenever an assignment calls for me to go somewhere downtown, such as the fire or police stations.
From my home near Clinton High School, I’ve learned I can get to the Bickelhaupt Arboretum in roughly 5 minutes, the nearest mailbox in about 10 minutes, to Hy-Vee in less than half an hour and the movie theater in about 40 minutes. My car’s odometer tells me it’s only two miles to Fareway and Eagle, next on my list of actual destinations.
In the absence of somewhere to go, I just kind of walk around. Sometimes I head north toward Ike’s Peak Road. Other times I go south, toward the Clinton Country Club. Occasionally I go east into downtown. Sometimes I drive myself downtown, then walk along the riverfront on the recreational trail — from the south bridge to the north is little more than 30 minutes.
I realized I was overboard with my addiction when I started pacing from the living room to the kitchen and back during the two minutes it takes for my electric toothbrush to complete all four cycles. I pick up more than 250 steps in those two minutes as well as a healthy amount of mocking from my loving wife.
Unlike other addicts, however, I’m not in denial. Rather, I bask in my obsession. I show off my pedometer to anyone who asks, though I’m not sure where I got the idea that 10,000 steps a day was the ideal benchmark.
I got into walking for selfish reasons. Basically, my pants kept getting tighter. I tried not washing them to avoid any shrinkage, but my wife reminded me that probably wasn’t either the problem or the solution.
“Buy bigger pants,” she said. Easy to say for someone in her fifth month of pregnancy.
Perhaps our first child, due in mid-April, is really what compelled me to try to do something active. It may have been the voice in my head reminding me that I once told my dad I’d never buy pants with a 40-inch waist, but mostly I figured if I didn’t get a minor fitness routine in place before the kid comes, it will be almost impossible after.
I know walking isn’t going to drop extra pounds off in an instant (even eating smarter, I’m not sure I’ve shed any more than a few ounces). I know even 10,000 steps a day isn’t some magical fitness equation, otherwise we’d all look as stupid as me, bending over every couple of blocks to see what the new tally is.
It’s like a permanent telethon on my pants.
But walking four or five times a week has made me feel more like an actual Clinton resident than anything else since we bought our house this spring. I go through the neighborhoods and look at the each one’s different characteristics. I wave at people I pass on the street, and find I recognize them more and more. I walk by businesses that I have never visited and often go back later. It all helps me get a feel for the people who make this community whole.
I don’t run, mostly because it’s much more effort (I said I was trying to be active, but I didn’t say I wanted to sweat). But also, running moves me too fast through Clinton. If I want the houses and streets to be a blur, I’ll hop in my car and get somewhere fast.
Instead, I choose to relish the flavor of the town I now call home. Walking isn’t for everyone, but it does serve as a great reminder that sometimes there doesn’t even need to be a destination. Just getting out and experiencing your hometown is always worth the effort.
Continue reading "Today is a great day to start walking"
