Most of my friends are pretty active gals. They regularly work out at the gym, fitness boot camp or other similarly strenuous locations.

Not me. I walk. With my dogs. Same time, same route, same five out of seven days each week.

Here are some highlights of our daily fitness routine:

Out the gate and ready to roll, with Mickey in the lead and Lyla working on the "focus" command.

Now she's got it, periscope ear up and all -- proof that she's focused! (Keep an eye on that ear throughout; it does not go down!)

On the road ...

... past the open area where the deer and the fox like to roam.

Up the hill to the house where the maniac dog of questionable breed rushes the chain link fence, providing the best arm workout of the trek as I try to force the dogs to maintain at least minimal composure. (It doesn't usually work.)

Back down the hill again.

Trit, trot, trit, trot (with a tangled leash, evidence that composure was lost on the way down the hill).

This is the house of the man who hates Mickey ... and Lyla ... and me ... and every other living being (except his grass, which I think he manicures with scissors).

Up the next big hill ...

... where wondrous views await ...

... of ... Walmart and its busy parking lot ... at 9:30 on a weekday morning! While K-Mart, across the street, sports a nearly empty lot. (Poor K-Mart.) Okay, not the greatest of views, but if you turn the other direction, you get ...

... ta-da! Pikes Peak! This is the view we appreciate most.

Even Mickey can't get enough of the natural wonder. (Lyla can't get over the empty parking lot at K-Mart.)

While standing in the same spot, we need only glance slightly to the left for a full view of Cheyenne Mountain, with NORAD deep within. Well, it used to be the home of NORAD but now they've gone and moved it to a totally unsafe -- in my opinion -- location, with just bits and pieces left deep inside the mountain. But that's another story, for another time and featuring fewer photos.

Continuing on our way, with me searching the field where the fox den is located, ready to provide a detour if a fox comes our way.

Past the house where the nice man likes to smile and yell across the street, "Who's walking who? Ha, ha!" (Like I've never heard that six hundred and fifty-two trillion times before. But that's okay cuz he's nice ... and he thinks it's funny.)

One more view of Pikes Peak ...

... then we're homeward bound.

Ah, home sweet home!

The dogs make sure the coast is clear: No squirrels. No birds. It's a go.

And we're back where we began.

Fitness mission accomplished!

Sure, there are no pushups, no pullups, no plank positions involved. But the yanking of the leashes this way and that way while avoiding fox, squirrel, deer and passing vehicles (which are like crack to Lyla, who's having a difficult time giving up the habit) is more than enough workout for this grandma.

Mickey and Lyla, on the other hand, are ready for more. They dash off into the backyard the second the gate is opened, scaring the cuss out of each and every robin, wren, mourning dove and squirrel who had the gall to relax in the shade, eat from the bird feeders or splash in the water while the dog patrol was out making its neighborhood rounds.

Today's question:

What's your exercise routine?