Attention everybody! I'm gonna show you a brand new dance.
It's called The walk, the walk, just let your body talk 'til you're deep in a trance.
You don't need no partner, you can walk all alone.
Whenever you feel the groove just let your body move, walkin' to a beat of your own.
- The Time, The Walk
In addition to encouraging you to go check out Morris Day's sexy-cool vibe on a 1982 funk classic, this is my subtle way of informing you that I will be availing myself of the "walk" option in the ovarian cancer walk/run fundraiser I'm doing next month.
You see, I'm lame. And I mean that literally, as well as figuratively.
After each day that I train by doing some SLOW jogging to train for the 5K, I have three or four days of pain in my left ankle that has me hobbling like a 90-year-old and is bad enough to wake me up in the night.
Don't they say that pain is your body's way of saying "STOP what you're doing?" Well, unless "they" are the Marines, in which case pain is "weakness leaving the body." I'm not a Marine, so I'm going to listen to my body and stop.
I really did want want to do the run again, but I don't think my mom would want to see me spend the fall in a cast (or an iron lung for that matter).
The central points remain the same.
- Cancer sucks, and I want to do my small part to fight it.
- These boots were made for walkin', and that's just what they'll do.
PS: What's the last blog you visited that quoted Morris Day and Nancy Sinatra in the same post? I'm surprised it happened, too.