If you’re looking at the photo you’re probably thinking, “Oh no, not another one of her damned step reports”

Yes, it is, but before you pull the plug, be advised that this is mainly a thank you note. Seven or eight years ago, when I first started walking and when I couldn’t walk more than a thousand steps without resting, I took a look in the mirror and saw a person who had never in her life managed to keep a New Year’s Resolution.

It wasn’t New Year’s at the time, it was actually the middle of April, so deciding to start walking had nothing at all to do with beginning something on January 1 and petering out by January 10. In an effort to keep myself from giving up, I needed to find a way to make myself accountable. I did that by writing about it in my blog and making my readers aware of what I was doing. That ended turning my blog followers into my Walking Buddies. Thank you all for being that. Your presence and encouragement really is a big part of my walking success.

Nobody is more surprised than I am that I’ve kept at it for years now, and as the steps have added up one day at a time, I’ve given my Walking Buddies continuing reports. And this one is another.

Last week I could see that by the time I’d be writing this week’s blog post I’d be hitting the twenty-five million mark, and I was really looking forward to writing it. I expected to march across the finish line at my usual walking pace which boils down to a hundred steps a minute.

Remember that old adage about pride going before the fall? Yup, that’s exactly what happened. I hit the mark all right, but instead of marching over the finish line in triumph, I limped over it because the fall in question arrived on Thursday afternoon.

I was stepping off the front porch to speak to the head of our tree trimming crew when I took a tumble. With a death grip on the banister, I did a slow, twisty fall, landing on my toes like an aging ballerina doing a misguided pirouette in slow motion.

People my age and size are not built to be ballerinas. My death grip on the banister slowed my momentum enough that my Apple Watch missed the action completely and didn’t give me the standard stern warning. “You seem to have fallen. Do you require medical assistance?”

Naturally, the guy I was talking to was horrified. He hurried over to help me get up. Unfortunately, I outweighed him by probably a good forty pounds, so he helped me get to my feet, all right, but so did the banister.

Fortunately, I landed on my butt, so I didn’t hit my head. At first it didn’t seem as though anything was broken, but by the time I limped back into the house and took some Aleve, pain from my toes was shooting in spasms up both legs. I envisioned having broken some of the small bones in both feet, so my daughter drove me to the ER. While I was waiting in the “triage” aisle, I noticed how much the middle finger on my left hand was hurting, so I had them Xray that right along with my feet.

Turns out my feet were fine and so were my ankles. The finger on my left hand—the one that was not hanging on to the banister—is the only thing that’s broken. It’s currently taped to the next finger over. The tape is low enough that I’m still able to type! Whew!

As for the toes? They may not be broken, but oh my goodness, they’re certainly a colorful mess. The first night I was reduced to using a walker. (Fortunately, the garage walker is a spare!) The next day, when I was still hobbling around, someone reminded me of Arnica. Slathering my toes with that has really helped with both swelling and pain. I’m also still taking Tylenol.

So today, when I literally limped over the 25,000,000 line, I was so preoccupied with watching where I was going that I forgot to take the screen shot until much later. Based on my height, that many steps amount to having walked 10,330 miles. That’s a lot of miles.

So it turns out pride goeth before the fall, but it’s still there afterwards, too. And a sincere thank you to all of you who have helped me stay the course. I wouldn’t have done it without you.