Walking and writing, writing and walking.

Strangely, I didn't start walking for any other reason than to inspire my writing. I found out long ago that going on walks sparks my imagination, especially if I don't run into anyone.

Once I started walking, I came up with a route and out of curiosity I measured the distance.

Now, after walking five days a week for five months, I'm walking 6 miles in the same time it used to take me to walk 4 miles, this without any conscious effort to increase my pace. I guess I didn't really realize how out of shape I was.

I've only lost about 7 pounds -- I haven't changed my eating habits at all. But I've lost a couple of notches in my belt, probably a couple of inches off my waist. I figure I've probably gained a couple of pounds in my legs. My calves are noticeably bigger.

Anyway, the walking just feels good. I'm not really doing it for any other reason than that. Well, that and it helps me think about my stories. I get little glimmers of ideas about the chapter I'm writing as I go along, and I save them up. Sometimes I stop about halfway and do some writing if the weather cooperates.

I didn't go walking yesterday because of the rain and snow, but I really wanted to. It was raining this afternoon when I set out, but I really wanted to get out of the house. Sure enough, 15 miles out of town, the rain stopped. I guess that's why they call it a desert.

The only real concern I have now is that the walking has become such a trigger to my writing that I wonder if I can even write without walking first!