Picture in your mind a frail old lady hobbling across the living room, hunched over leaning on her cane. She doesn't actually pick her feet up, but her movement through the house is more of a shuffle.

Welcome to my life.

Ben is going on a mission trip later this year in which he will be hiking in the mountains, carrying a 40-pound pack with all his worldly possessions including tent and sleeping bag, food, stove, water, clothing, and maybe a few band-aids if he can fit them. And because he is a smart man and knows his limitations, he has begun training for this trip, meaning he puts on his boots, straps on his pack, and walks. A lot. Mostly he goes at 4:30 in the morning and since I don't want to disturb his solitude at that hour (yes, that's it), I stay in bed where all normal people are when it's still the middle of the night.

So yesterday morning while I was grocery shopping, he went for a seven-mile walk, his longest one yet. I was duly impressed. Then later that day when we had to leave the house so people could come see it, I suggested we go drive through a nearby park that has a beautiful seven-mile road with almost no traffic. It's scenic and quiet and one of my favorite places to run. He loved it so we made plans to walk the whole thing after church this morning.

Well.

It's been a little while since I walked that far. And I wasn't wearing heavy boots or carrying a backpack. Tomorrow is going to be rough.