👣 "Caminando" |Reflexión ( ESP-ENG)

I've started walking every two or three days. Four or five kilometers. Around that. I end up exhausted. But I confess that I feel better.

That's what I'm doing for my health, dear @damarysvibra

Thank you for prompting these confessions.

When I look in the mirror, there's a man in his fifties, overweight, a writer, who spent a long time making excuses. His back, his knees, his job, the cold, the heat, the "I'll start tomorrow." A collection of such well-rehearsed lies.

But enough is enough. I've started walking.

Being overweight isn't a punishment from fate; it's, if anything, the result of my own decisions repeated over the years. It hurts to say it, but saying it is liberating. Because if I did it, I can undo it. No one is coming to rescue me. There's no magic app or miracle diet. There are legs. My legs. And the sidewalk. The same one for everyone. And the embankment.

The pain isn't my trainer yelling at me that I've been asleep for decades. How could my knees not hurt if I treated them like a piece of furniture for so many years? Pain is pure information. It doesn't tell me to "stop." It tells me to "wake up."

I've learned to differentiate between the pain of an injury and the pain that warns me I'm doing something I've never done before. The second is welcome. The second is change.

Feeling better isn't the same as being well. Beware of this trap. I can feel better and still weigh the same. I can feel better and still be many kilos away from where I should be. Feeling good is an emotional state. Being well is a real state. I don't confuse them. I won't settle for the first if I don't achieve the second.

Shame accompanies me every time I go for a walk. The same shame I felt when I climbed a hill and had to stop after two minutes. The shame that made me lower my gaze when a runner passed me without taking a breath. But shame is no longer my enemy. Now it's my judge. It reminds me that I can do more. That I've lived below my potential.

And I am capable of many things.

I believe that shame, used well, is better than self-pity.

Uncomfortable hope grips me at kilometer four, when my body can't go on but my mind starts thinking, "What if I keep going?" That hope without pretty pictures. Without promises of radical change. Just with a simple phrase: "You did something today. You'll be back tomorrow." That hope is fierce. I like you.

It's not that I've found motivation, either. Sometimes I think motivation is a lie peddled by those who don't wake up with trembling legs. I have an agreement with myself. A pact, no frills. I put on my running shoes and start walking.

My only valid excuse is to give up. And giving up is a decision, not a condition.