Perambulating in the Park

Heaven help me, it is the truth, it is no lie that I have become positively LUMBROUS in my decrepitude.

I attempted to run up a slight––slight!–– incline to catch up with Marz gamboling ahead at Gooseberry Falls State Park, and I felt like a suet pudding. (We don't have those here, but they sound like how I felt.)

Now I'm back home, I am committed--committed!--to standing up every day, stepping outside, and locomoting myself from there.
I have no excuse not to. I'm just genuinely physically lazy. (I say this with affection. It's the plain truth.)
I have time: I'm unemployed!
All my body parts function, if reluctantly.

I live a pleasant walk from a lake with a walking path.
Today I walked those 5 miles (8 km) to the lake, around, and back.
It rained the tiniest bit, which intensified the colors and thinned the crowds. (Weekends, the paths can be mobbed. Luckily there's a separate path for people on wheels.)

The lake commissary closes tomorrow for winter, and I got my last grilled cheese of the season, with the extra treat of a local beer--a "dry-hopped and citrus-forward IPA with a smooth, malty finish".

This may seem counterproductive, but believe me, I'd eat this sort of thing whether I'd taken a walk or not.
It made for a perfect Saturday in the park.