For the most part, I like exercise.  It clears my brain and the endorphins are nice — the physical benefits are secondary. I zip along outside with my dog every other day — my husband does the dog walking on the in-between days — and on my alternate days I either ride my bike or get on the treadmill, depending on the weather.  When I’m outside, I move at a good clip — though admittedly I dawdle sometimes and watch deer crossing the road or search the treetops to see if my raven pair is up there.  Once in a while my accordion-playing neighbor hollers from his yard and I stop briefly and visit with him.  I savor those times because a treadmill doesn’t give me those options. Man, once I hit the “start” button, that blasted thing is relentless in maintaining its speed.  A treadmill has no soul.

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