As I mentioned this weekend, I wear a pedometer. It is part of our Conference health plan. They give it to us for free, and they actually pay us cash money for our steps. Last year, I got $310 that I would not have gotten if I hadn’t worn the thing. If nothing else, the pedometer proves that I do indeed have my price. And it’s not that high.
The pedometer gods have issued a challenge: For this week, we are to average 1,000 more steps a day than we did in August. For me, that means that I am supposed to log a little over 11,000 steps per day. On the one hand, I appreciate their interest in my personal health and activity level. On the other hand, I find this latest challenge inconvenient, to say the least. If I am walking, then I am not sitting at my desk working. I am not reading my Bible. I can (and do) pray while walking, but it’s not the same as being in prayerful stillness. I am not patting my dog or snuggling my husband or baking cookies to send to my children. And, unless they are able bodied and have on walking shoes, I am not talking or listening or connecting with other people. In short, this walking business can interfere in my business of being me.
Last night, I had a few thousand steps to get in before bed. I was walking briskly around the house, tidying as I walked. With sustained movement, I was certain that I could hit my goal for the day. And then Andy called out to me from the deck. The thunderstorms to our north were creating a beautiful lightning show, and he wanted me to watch it with him. But I needed to get in my steps. . .
Yes, I made the right decision. The lightning was lovely to watch, and the guy I was holding hands with wasn’t so bad looking himself. Sometimes, our most important steps have absolutely nothing to do with a pedometer.
