Every once in a while, it really hits me how much progress I’ve made.
Case in point: yesterday was the open house for my son’s kindergarten. It’s at the same place he’s been going to daycare and preschool, so it’s only about an eight minute walk from my house. Because of that, I walked over to the open house. But I ended up getting there early, so I went and walked around the neighborhood for a little while – I hadn’t met my walking goal yet, so I figured I’d get myself a little closer. (Also, in fairness, there was a Poliwag in the neighborhood. That taunted me, because I wasted my last two Pokeballs trying to capture it.)
Afterwards I walked home and changed into my street clothes and then went back out to wrap up the last 3/4 of a mile I needed to hit my goal. And to get my dog out for a walk as well, because he was getting a little stir-crazy. It wasn’t until I got home that it really hit me: last year at this time, just walking to my son’s school felt like an achievement. Now, I’m walking to and around his school as a warm up, before getting out and walking some more. And I’m only a little over half way to my goal. It made me feel a lot better.
Stupid Poliwag still got away, though.