I Walk To Music

Time: 54:28
Miles: 3.44
Calories: 484.7

My B asked, "Why didn't you just finish out the half-mile?"
I told him, "Because my cool down song ended."

It was true. It was "Everything" by Lifehouse. Perfect cool down song. First of all, it's like, six minutes long. Second, I LOVE IT. It's the new theme song of my next novel. I just decided that.
I love it when older songs come back to you and take on a new meaning because of something you've experienced, or are experiencing.
Yes, I am one of those people who listen to lyrics. Story after story after story.
Sometimes I don't want to know the lyrics, and then I turn the station.
It is fun to hear my youngest walking around singing "Whoa, we're halfway there. Whoa, livin' on a prayer. Take my hand, and we'll make it I swear, whoa, livin' on a prayer..."
Or my oldest singing, "Tenderness... tenderness... where is it?" I used to bounce around and slam dance with my best friend, Laurel, whenever that song came on in high school. We thought we were so cool. Well, maybe not, but it made us happy.
Braeden and I learned the entire new Fray album by heart, singing together on our way to school last semester.
Jacob is always singing something. That's how I know he's happy. New, old, kid stuff, musicals.
I would have a hard time walking without my workout music. I don't know how people do it. I actually pull myself out of bed because I am anticipating the music, not the walk. It feels great when I'm done, though.
U2, Elevation. This song is the reason I should not walk in public. The groove gets me and no one should have to see that. Hooray, treadmill. Dance to it.
Muse, Super Massive Black Hole. Even if I am at the last of my three miles, and the sweat is trickling past my ear, this song hits, and I am attacking that 2.5 incline as if I have just started.
I have two leather beanbags that feel great in my hands. I grab them throughout the walk and throw some punches like Billy Blanks... jabs, uppercuts. I feel like Rocky. Whose theme song is on my B's workout playlist.
My point is, I am grateful for the rhythm, the pound, the drive, that gets my aging body going, clears my head, makes me reach. It makes me feel young. So does the pleased smile and thumbs-up my B gives me as he passes the treadmill, peeking at my time. And I mouth the lyrics to him, and his smile widens, because he knows exactly which song is on my MP3 player, and why my pace is hoppin'.
I walk to music.