Taking A Walk

by Dwayne Phillips

My wife is a dietitian. She once ran a school cafeteria and fed 700 kids a day. She pays attention to what we eat and always keeps us on a balanced diet.

I like hamburgers and french fries. I have always liked hamburgers and french fries. And then there are hot dogs. I love hot dogs.

It is easy to find hamburgers, french fries, and hot dogs on the road in rural America. I think that every gas station in America has one of those machines with the rollers that roll hot dogs back and forth all day. Those hot dogs look so good, and did I mention that I love hot dogs. I really do love hot dogs.

Perhaps you can see by now the tension that might come into play here. In 2008, my wife walked with me. She kept track of what we were eating and ensured that we didn’t live on hamburgers, french fries, and hot dogs. I was happy with that arrangement.

In 2009, I walked by myself for three weeks and then with my brother for the last two weeks. I worked hard to ensure that I didn’t eat hamburgers, french fries, and hot dogs all the time.

Let’s pause a moment on the discussion of food and steer over to another little thing that happens when taking a walk. By the end of an 18-mile day, I cannot remember what I did or ate three hours earlier. That is one reason I jotted notes in a pocket notebook and took photographs during the day. Otherwise, I would have only remembered about a third of the walk. Now back to food and the desire for a balanced diet.

I had a journal with me on the walk. One thing I recorded was what I ate everyday. On good days, I recorded every single little thing I ate and drank. I would look through the days and note how long it had been since I ate green beans or corn or salad or chicken. I adjusted my evening meal accordingly.

My wife never asked if I had been eating well. Nevertheless, I was ready to answer.