Walk Don't Run to Your Nearest Exit

I saw this bumper sticker on a car today, and thought it was fairly perfect for me.  I've been thinking a lot about running, especially since today is the Boston Marathon and somehow lots of people my friends know are running in it - according to Facebook anyway. Because of that, I saw tons of posts of FitBits with fastest times, and photos of sneakers all laced up and ready to go, and some TMI posts about what people felt after the big race.  I totally could have done without those posts.

Meanwhile, I'm just here on Facebook trying to see some cute pics of dogs and hear how the Caps are doing. Is that really too much to ask?  The running thing is just so not my thing.  I'd like to say I'd like it to be.  I hear all sorts of wonderful health benefits and stress relief that comes from taking a run. You get to participate in races with friends and get cool tee shirts when you finish races to.  However, there are some bodies that just aren't made for running. One of those bodies is mine.  Walking is more my speed.  It's actually the best way I find to daydream and listen to music while getting into shape and I can do it on my lunch break without needing an extra bag of clothes and a shower afterwards.

But running, that's an entirely different story.  First off I'm out of breath in about 20 feet.  I could probably work on that, but why should I when walking is just so much more manageable? Secondly, you need sneakers and spandex and special sportsy garments that will keep certain things from moving about during the run.  I can walk in flip flops and my clothes I wore to work - I wouldn't suggest doing that, but my Sanuks are super comfy so I'm ok with it. Lastly, have you heard what may or may not happen at the end of a marathon to your body?  Why on earth would any one willingly do something when chafing, cramping and other unmentionable horrors are par for the course?  

No thank you, I'll just stick to my usual walking.  It's so much more civilized and I don't have to worry about embarrassing myself in the aftermath.