J strides up the gently sloping sidewalk while I lag behind, winded. "I'm exhausted!" I whine, and he smirks: "Now you know how I used to feel."
It's true, I've always been a fast walker. But now J is on his health kick, he not only walks with me, but walks quickly, all the better to burn calories. The recent snows have curtailed his running, so he's determined to make up for that by walking miles. I love the company, but illness and lack of activity have taken their toll. I cannot keep up, which is shaming. He's lost 15 pounds, would probably even have more energy if he didn't stay up until 3 am. For once, the green things in our fridge are supposed to be green, and are eaten with gusto by my man. It's me who has the eggs 'n potatoes, who can't forgo the sour-cherry-and -chocolate scone. But I've lost a bit of weight even so, due to the walks mainly.
I have a new part-time job, by the way. Kites 'n Puppets on Granville Island. Terrible pay, but it's only 2 days a week so I can look for other stuff. Hey, it's a start, right?