Wow, we are old. Old and fat. TPH and I have been trying to get more in shape lately, as our current diet of eating whatever we want whenever we want, combined with our current workout regime of sitting on the couch/computer chair all day doesn't seem to be giving either of us the trim physique we so desire. Wonder of wonders.
I tend to go barging into most things in life, flattening anyone in my way in my quest for excellence and perfection on all fronts. After not exercising for almost a year, the first power walk I took was 4 miles. The second night I walked another 3, and the third night another 4. By the fourth night I couldn't walk at all. And that was that.
So here we were a week later on our "Do-Over" (yes, when you are this old and this fat, it does take a week to stop aching), pushing and shoving each other out the door to try and get started again, and I'm proud to report that we just did another 5K around RBS. This time I think I'll take it a little slower, maybe only a couple times a week to start.
My old dogs were both a major push to get me out the door and walking, and I miss them. Not to bash the current furry companion, but she stinks as a walking dog. She also stinks as a guard dog. She is only minorly good at eating anything on the floor. In short she is not much more than an alive stuffed animal, only, most stuffed animals are probably smarter.
Case in point: This morning around 11am the doorbell rang. I was surprised knowing that said ferocious guard dog was in the yard, and the gate had been locked. When I looked out the peephole, I saw a Chasid. Holding a very sharp garden hoe. Yes, you read that correctly.
Slightly afraid of what this could possibly mean (riots? had I gone out in my t-shirt?), I called TPH to answer the door, and sure enough, this collector, while clearly stating his plight was grasping tightly to the garden hoe (our garden hoe) while imploring my DH to please help him and his family. After a short exchange he glanced nervously around and muttered something about the dog before he put down the tool and dashed. The ferocious Chasid eating dog? Helpfully cowering under a chair all the while.
So wish us luck on our new weight loss journey, because if you don't I just might sic my dog on you.