Pettigrew gets a long walk in the morning. He drinks some water when we return. Then he heads to the sofa for a nap.
Our morning walk takes 40 to 45 minutes.
At a brisk pace I walk one mile in 15 minutes. We take several breaks during our morning walk, so I figured we covered 2 miles.
I should’ve left it at that.
If I had, I could continue to say with complete honesty that I work out every day.
I could answer my internist in the affirmative when asked whether I engage in regular exercise.
Unfortunately, I was curious.
So I measured it.
One mile! Yes, one measly mile is all the distance we cover on our 40- to 45-minute walk.
How is this possible?
I’m sure you are imagining that we proceed at a snail’s pace. In fact, Pettigrew leaves the house full of vim and vigor, charging down the sidewalk with me in tow.
Then he pauses.
There’s an alluring smell he must explore.
An intriguing wet patch against a retaining wall.
A bed of liriope to wade through.
Sometimes, tracking a scent, he backtracks, moves forward, and then backtracks again before moving on.
And of course, he needs to use the facilities and I need to clean up after him.
Our walk is full of bursts of speed, complete stops, and leisurely strolls. But even I can’t stretch it enough to call it interval training.
One of my walking friends is philosophical about the pace our dogs set. She notes that when she visits a museum, she likes to take her time, examining the art and reading the notes. Similarly, she believes our dogs deserve a leisurely pace so that they can enjoy a full sensory experience outside.
I’m not sure I share her Zen approach. If Pettigrew and I don’t cover more ground, I may need to hit the gym!