I need to get back into the habit of walking more. At least that’s what the doctor who gave me my annual physical last week said.

Everything went well at my physical. The doctor said my heart sounded good and my blood work came back fine. My blood pressure and cholesterol weren’t an issue.

“But it wouldn’t hurt you to lose 10 or 15 pounds,” the doc said.

He’s probably right. I have gained some weight in the last few months, and it correlates perfectly to when I stopped going on long walks each morning.

I’m hardly alone, though. You’ve probably seen all the news stories about what a bunch of fatties we’ve become in America.

We don’t exercise enough, the experts say. And, especially in the South, we tend to eat our food deep-fried and covered in gravy. Even our vegetables just aren’t right unless someone throws in a ham hock while they’re cooking.

And instead of walking to places we could easily walk, we tend to take our cars.

I'm as guilty as anybody. I love my car.

I used to walk a lot, especially if I couldn't find an adult to drive me where I wanted to go.

"Mama, drive me to Andy's house," I'd ask.

Andy was a friend who lived down the street, about eight houses away.

"Walk there yourself," she'd say. "It builds character."

I was tempted to say, "I don't know about building character. Walking does, however, build blisters on the bottoms of your feet." But arguing was pointless, so I hoofed it to Andy's house.

Then I learned to ride a bike. That's when I officially gave up walking, deciding that riding somewhere was, in fact, a superior way to travel.

When I got my driver's license at 16, I thought I had reached transportation nirvana. Not only could I ride where I was going, I no longer had to provide the propulsion myself.

From that point on, I drove pretty much everywhere I needed to go. The truth is I'd probably drive from the living room to the bathroom right now, except I can't get a Honda Accord through my front door.

I really didn't walk much at all until Glory, the black and white Springer spaniel who lives at my house, came into my life. She sort of expects to go for a walk – or two – every day.

Glory would walk from here to Macon if I let her, and there for a few years, she and I walked about three miles every day.

During that time, I got my weight down to a respectable number, and I no longer felt too big for my britches.

But Glory is just a few months away from being 15 years old. That’s at the high end of a springer spaniel’s life expectancy.

In recent months, she’s been in declining health. A couple of months ago, she began have seizures, and after a lengthy examination by Doc, her personal veterinarian, she’s on medication that seems to have stopped the seizures.

But the medication, coupled with her old joints, is making it difficult for her to get around. I often have to carry her up the steps at night. I have to help her on the bed or on the sofa.

She no longer gets excited at the sight of the leash. Instead, she goes out, tends to nature’s call and comes back in to lie down.

So with my walking partner no longer able to join me, I got out of the walking habit. But I’ve promised myself that I’m going to do better. I’m going to start my day with a long walk, even if Glory can’t join me.

We all should try to do better. We'll feel better for it.

But, for me, at least, it won’t be as much fun.

Mitch Clarke is executive editor of The Times. His column appears Sundays. Read previous columns at gainesvilletimes.com/mitch.