Animal with Home Value

 A Thanksgiving weekend of family meals, long walks, and reaching 86 books this year Bryan and I headed out for a walk after he returned from his sister’s Thanksgiving gathering, settling into a steady 30‑minute pace that carried us just under 2 km. The air was crisp with a light breeze, the kind of weather that makes movement feel effortless. I’ve always loved these cooler temperatures—my body doesn’t have to work as hard, and the transition from “easy mode” into a gentle warm‑up felt natural. Carrying 30 pounds with me added that extra layer of challenge, but it blended seamlessly into the rhythm of the walk. We paused at a park bench along the way, taking a moment to sit together before snapping a photo. That small break reminded me how these walks are as much about connection as they are about distance or weight carried. The combination of fresh air, conversation, and the grounding presence of the season made the outing feel restorative. It wasn’t just a walk—it was a reminder...

 The mental tug-of-war and the ritual of writing motivation into motion. Lines Before Laces Some mornings, motivation doesn’t come with the sunrise—it arrives in fragments. Today was one of those days. I sat down more times than I stood up, each attempt to lace my shoes interrupted by the gravity of comfort and the weight of hesitation. It took writing lines in a Word document—simple, stubborn affirmations—to coax myself into motion. Not poetic, not profound. Just necessary. Dixie and I finally made it out for a short run. My legs protested with sharp shin splints , a reminder that I hadn’t fueled properly—protein was missing, and my body knew it. I stretched mid-run, paused, breathed, and kept going. It wasn’t graceful, but it was real. And despite the discomfort, I found joy in the rhythm, in Dixie’s steady presence, and in the fact that I’d overcome the inertia. Funny how workdays make it easier. I say I’ll run, and I do. No mental tug-of-war, no negotiations with the couch. But...

  Frost , Hills, and a Chewed-Up Start October 6 greeted us with our first frost of the season—just a whisper of white across the grass, crisp enough to make the coffee taste richer and the walk feel sharper. Dixie and I took full advantage, clocking an hour through one of the few routes around here with real elevation gains. Not many places in Lethbridge or Medicine Hat offer hills worth mentioning, so when the land lifts and dips just enough to challenge the legs and lungs, it feels like a small triumph. Joe joined for the first leg, and two cups of black coffee later, the morning ritual felt complete. But nature giveth and nature gnaweth. Back at home, I discovered the mice had chewed through my windshield washer lines . The pump still hums with purpose, but only a few weak spurts make it to the glass—like a faucet with a cough. It’s a small annoyance, but one that reminds me how even the tiniest creatures can reroute our day. I’ll patch it up, of course, but part of me admire...

  Today was a full-body kind of day—the kind that leaves you feeling strong, clear-headed, and quietly proud. I started with two weight sessions totaling 68 minutes and 46 sets, pushing through each rep with focus and intention. My doctor recently recommended two to three strength workouts per week, and I’m already ahead of the curve. After the weights, Dixie and I hit the pavement for a 5 km run. She kept pace beautifully, and I could feel the rhythm of the day settling into my stride. The energy didn’t stop there. I rolled that momentum into a deep clean of the house—vacuuming the night before, then mopping floors, scrubbing toilets and sinks, and picking up scattered papers. There’s something grounding about tending to your space after tending to your body. It’s like syncing the inside with the outside, clearing clutter both physical and mental. I didn’t rush it; I moved with purpose, letting the satisfaction build with each task. I’m feeling good—really good. The doctor’s adv...

  A good walk with my dad “We snapped a photo right at the start, where our walking routes met in the park—a shared midpoint from both our homes. The park was alive with others walking, and we even crossed paths with the same man twice: once in the park, then again on the road. It’s almost a game, seeing who collects the most hellos. My dad offered two or three greetings, while I, lugging a 30 lbs. pack, didn’t manage a single one. That kind of weight makes you weezy, more focused on breath than banter.” That’s such a vivid slice of your walk, Nigel—starting with a photo that marks the moment of connection, two paths converging in a lively park. The social rhythm of walking—passing familiar faces, exchanging greetings—feels almost like a neighborhood ritual. I love the idea of it being a game of hellos, with your dad racking up a few wins while you, understandably, were focused on breathing through that 30 lbs. pack. “Weezy” is the perfect word—funny, honest, and totally relatable....

Walk to the Fire Hall This morning’s walk with Vince and Dixie was a perfect blend of fresh air, good company, and quiet reflection. We wandered through the neighborhood, passing the fire hall, chatting about how well Dixie has matured—staying close even off leash, a far cry from her puppy days at the Coaldale dog park when she’d bolt and ignore every call.  The weather cooperated beautifully: a brisk 14°C for our first stretch, climbing to 25°C later, but I managed to beat the heat by heading out early. After 5.7 km and about 75 minutes of walking, Dixie is now sprawled by the air register, soaking up the cool air, and I’m left feeling grateful for the time spent with Vince and my father-in-law—simple moments that mean the most. This week’s walk was a bit more intense than usual — I strapped on a 14 kg weight (about 30 lbs) and took it with me for the entire route. It added a satisfying challenge to the pace, and I could feel the difference in my stride and breathing. Carrying th...