We’re getting our annual
January thaw in February this year. The weekend brought balmy temps in the 30s,
and I took advantage of the nice weather to take the dog for a walk on Saturday
and Sunday. The dog in question is
our 13-year-old German shepherd-golden retriever-chow-collie mix, Brigit. She
is usually escorted in public by My Lovely Wife — even though when we moved into this
neighborhood last summer, our two former children/housemates and I enthused over the
opportunity to wander along the river or down by Minnehaha Falls, dog in tow. That
didn’t exactly pan out, which is generally OK with MLW, who likes to wander the
neighborhood with Brigit most mornings after she has her tea.

I bring this up because,
like getting to the gym on a regular basis, walking the dog requires that I
overcome some inertia. After a busy week at the office, there’s nothing I like
better than kicking back with a good book (or writing another inspired blog
post!) and gradually decompressing before I hit the entry ramp leading to
Monday morning. This is an easier decision when it’s 20 below zero. When the
weather is glorious, a little voice in my head tends to pound away at me until
I give in. It says something like, “What are you doing in the house, you miserable
slacker? How many days like this do you think you’re going to get before your
time on this earthly plane expires? Now, get your butt up out of that chair and
get out there!!”

It’s a persuasive argument.
But sometimes I need an objective, a practical reason for pulling on my jacket
and boots and heading into the public sphere — no matter what the weather is.
On Saturday I noticed I was down to my last bottle of beer in the fridge, so I
figured that was a pretty good reason to venture out. I could trek across the bridge to Village
Liquors — maybe three-quarters of a mile away — and restock. And, if I’m heading out anyway, why not take the dog?

I pause here to draw your
attention to a recent study, published in The
Proceedings of the National Academy of
Sciences, that suggests walking regularly may expand your hippocampus, the
region in your brain associated with memory. I was thinking of this when Brigit
and I set out for the liquor store, and it made me stride a bit more
purposefully than normal. Brigit, on the other hand, has no interest in
expanding her hippocampus. Walking for her is all about sniffing and peeing.
So, I was reduced to shuffling and stopping at irregular intervals, and I could vaguely picture
my hippocampus inflating and deflating at unpredictable moments. Still, by the
time we reached the bridge, the pavement was clear and the mysterious canine
signposts that so enthrall Brigit were nowhere to be smelled, so
we picked up the pace. While we walked, I remembered we were headed to buy
beer, so I figured my longer strides were having a good effect.

Brigit, I should mention
here, is not the most sociable of dogs. At the dog park over by the river,
she’s just as likely to frolic with a strange dog as chomp down on their
jugular. So, I’m always a bit nervous going out with her in public. If we meet
another dog on the sidewalk, you never know what’s going to transpire. That
makes it risky to tie her up outside of a liquor store, or any other retail
establishment, so as we approached Liquor Village I decided I’d just shorten up
on the leash, dash in with her in tow, grab a six-pack, and hope for the best.

Thankfully, the joint was
empty. I grabbed my beer, paid the clerk (who handed me a dog treat), and got
out of there in no time flat. We headed back over the bridge leaving no
casualties behind and feeling generally upbeat about the state of my hippocampus.

Maybe that explained why I
reprised the dog walk on Sunday. I remembered that I had already laid in a
supply of beer, but I also recalled that it wasn’t such a bad idea to get
outside with the dog. Besides, MLW had gone off on her bicycle for the first
time this winter, braving the narrowed thoroughfares, gutter puddles, and ice
patches. I couldn’t really come up with a satisfying excuse for staying in. So
Brigit and I sloshed around Minnehaha Park for bit, watching young people
climbing around among the ice formations below the falls. No dogs here, either,
which made the journey, on the whole, almost tranquil.

I was on a roll at that
point, so when we arrived back home, I grabbed the ladder from the garage and
climbed up to the roof to inspect our ice dams, which were thawing so nicely
that I resisted the temptation to go at them with my hatchet. I did scrape away
at them a bit with my roof rake — a great core and upper-body workout in any
weather.

My rather convoluted point
here is that, once you overcome your inertia, exercise occurs rather easily. And
if it involves grabbing a six-pack on the way, even better — a cold beer tastes
mighty good when you’re ready to relax.