T couldn’t walk for six weeks while his bones healed. Our neighbor Derek described my dearest as a wolverine, referring to his determination to be back on his bike in 10 weeks and NOT needing a hip replacement when T recounted the accident. Indeed.

So, while he was healing and couldn’t walk, I decided I would walk for him.

Miles Elroy and I are longtime walking buddies, and he needed his daily rounds. With one less parent to spin him through the neighborhoods, Alex and our friend Norm stepped in to help. It was the “sweltering heat wave from hell summer” in Maryland, and we all sweated through the midday walks. Miles, with his black coat, most of all. But we persevered.

At the time, I was averaging 11–14K steps a day, already besting the 10,000-step benchmark, and started a streak measured by my faithful Lily Garmin watch. As the days passed, I kept moving the goal another week. When I hit 25 days, I thought, “Well, why not go to 50?” So I did.

At day 50, with T back at work and able to share some walks with our boy, I lowered the baseline to 7,500, just in case I had a day when 10K wasn’t possible. Most days I still topped 10K. But every goal needs a little grace, right?

So on it went. T got stronger. I walked longer.

75 days. 100. 200. 275.

No matter the weather or my schedule, Miles saw every outing as a great adventure, oblivious to my grumbling. I laced up my Hokas or Keenes, and off we went on our merry way.

Except, it wasn’t always merry.

If I hadn’t hit my number by 10 p.m., I’d groan and take my boy out for one more stroll. He was thrilled. I was not.

The steps weren’t all outdoor walks. I took extra trips up and down the stairs, out to the gas grill making dinners, and back and forth between the shed and the garden beds. Sometimes I marched in place while brushing my teeth, then circled the downstairs rooms to hit my number, especially when I hovered near 10,000 instead of 7,500. You gotta do what you need to when a streak is involved.

I began to consider giving up in January during the Arctic Freeze. I could use my WalkFit app to get indoor steps, but that meant A LOT of workouts. I’d rather suffer outdoors.

One exceptionally bitter Sunday afternoon, sweet Miles got an abbreviated jaunt down the street to avoid frostbite on his paws. Wrapping my face in a warm scarf, I donned my pink wool hat and headed back out alone to finish the day’s goal while he watched through the picture window. I’m certain the extreme cursing I spewed helped push me to my watch displaying “Congratulations!” when I hit 7,500.

T kept my resolve on the days when it weakened. “After all, 7,500 steps is only 3.5 miles. Not so much, really.” I kept my reply to myself when he offered this wisdom, and I congratulated myself every time I finished.

Meanwhile, T completed PT and began riding short routes again. A hard-won victory and testament to his strength and grit. As I strode into the 300s, he rolled into longer rides—21, 37, 44, then a 50-miler this past weekend.

The countdown began in earnest after 350 days. Late nights and crappy weather notwithstanding, I knew I was going to make it. After all, if my darling could push through his recovery and get back to the joy of riding, who was I to slack off with the finish line so close?

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