As I approach 75, I’m paying more attention to how I walk.
I keep reading that “motion is lotion.”
My wife mimics for me how I walk when I’m tired and focused on something other than my glutes and abdominal muscles.
She means well, but I hope she’s overaccentuating the lameness of my gait.
Johnny, my so-called trainer, has me focused on so many areas of improvement: “Keep your shoulders back.” “Don’t drop your head.” “Your left foot is flaring out.” “Pick up your pace.”
There is so much for me to think about, I forget where I’m walking to.
Last night, in the protection of darkness, I strolled up and down my driveway with my four shepherds. They barked their full approval. I must have been perfect.