Confession Time

I am not, nor have I ever been, a runner.

But I've always secretly wished that I were.

The most I've ever been able to run at one time was probably a half a mile, and I remember that even this was an achievement, that it took a while for me to build up to even that short distance.

More often than not, I walk. In troubling or uneasy times, I find myself longing for great big hunks of time so that I can walk for miles and miles. I learned this discipline from a former spiritual director of mine, an Episcopal nun who would walk 12 or 15 miles a day during the time that her marriage was falling apart (she became a nun after the divorce). There is something to the distance, I think. That, and the rhythmic footfalls -- slow and steady, nice and easy. Nothing wrong with being a tortoise, I say. Walking is contemplative. Walking is prayer.

Walking is an adventure with an 11-month-old Boston Terrier named Boo Radley.

For the last nine months, Boo has been the main reason I exercise. Before that, I was engaged in a serious yoga practice which took the form of daily (sometimes twice-a-day!) "hot" yoga at the studio near my house. I think it was work stress that drove me to it, but there I was, on the mat, every single day for six months solid. And then this little guy came on the scene. Life changes when you get a puppy.

I consider myself a fair writer, but I can't even come close to describing the magnitude of the guilt that welled up inside of me when, upon returning sweaty and stinky from yoga class, I looked down to see those enormous brown eyes looking up at me from inside that crate, nay, prison cell.

Yoga went out the window.

I miss yoga, but man, I love this dog. I'm blessed to live in downtown Savannah, a mere half of a block away from Forsyth Park. (This is a terrible, onerous, despicable life I lead.) Boo has become quite the celebrity in the park, and when he walks through it, it is as if he owns it. And frankly, he does. Inevitably, one or two people always laugh and smile when they see him, and then they recall a Boston from their childhood or talk about how much the miss their Boston back home. I feel like I can sort of relate to those parents who feel as though people only see and interact with their babies and not them.


As I said, Boo is the main reason I exercise, but Boo is also a major distraction and/or straight-up hindrance when it comes to aerobic exercise. If he isn't schmoozing with women and small children, Boo is smelling every leaf and peeing on every blade of grass, branch of shrubbery, and clump of fallen Spanish moss in all 30 acres of Forsyth Park. And just when I think, this dog could not possibly have one more nano-ounce (or whatever the hell they call micro amounts of liquid) of fluid left in his body, Boo Radley somehow, from some hidden bladder or reservoir deep inside his body, somehow, Boo manages to produce a tiny drop of urine with which to gingerly baptize said blade of grass, branch of shrubbery, and/or clump of fallen moss. Our pace is slow and deliberate.

What's more, Boston Terriers cannot tolerate extreme heat. Have you been to Savannah? Generally, we can only walk one mile at a time. Ideally, I would love to walk a mile in the morning, a mile at lunch, and a mile or two more in the evening. Mostly, I pull off one mile in the evening, and if the stars are aligned, sometimes two. Boo and I both could stand more exercise. We have been working on the "Leave it!!" command, and sometimes he actually does. Today, we accomplished one very humid, very sweaty, very pleasurable mile and will strive for the same tomorrow.

I am very grateful for this dog and for the ability to sweat, move, and breathe.

I have more to say about all this, and I'm sure I will, but for now, I'd like to say thank you for letting me blog here, and that I will see y'all soon. Good night.