Wild Sky – Walking Home Last Night; Photo: L. Weikel

I Walk

See, it’s the little things that make me realize my mortality. Or at least realize I’m no longer 42.

I walk. That’s my primary means of getting exercise, with a random yoga class thrown in sporadically just to remind me of what flexibility might feel like.

Karl and I almost always walk together. And we try to walk every day. Walking together has been the backbone of our marriage.

We have our ‘usual route’ – the one we’ve walked consistently for the past 34 years. Although truth be told, in the very earliest years that we lived here, we probably were largely inconsistent.

And we take a plastic grocery store bag with us every single time we take a walk.

Never Walk Without a Bag Stuffed In My Pocket

I have to admit, picking up trash while we walk is the most natural thing in the world to me. It’s such an integral part of my psyche that I try to always have an extra bag in my pocket just in case I’m walking somewhere and I see stuff that needs to be picked up. (And as we all know, it is rare to go anywhere and not see – at the very least – cigarette butts on the ground.)

But this is not a post about trash. It’s a post about walking; or at least that’s what I intended when I started this evening.

The route Karl and I almost always take measures 2.2 miles from doorway to doorway. Occasionally we’ll have enough time and flexibility to make it ‘around’ twice, but lately, at least, that’s been a bit challenging.

Piling On the Mileage

So it took its toll yesterday when, in a fit of pique I set off to one of our County Parks. (‘High Rocks,’ which we pass every day, is a State Park.)  Karl and I had already walked around once (during which a disagreement between us took shape), but then I strode to Tohickon Valley Park after our failure to resolve our mutual irritations reached an extra special level of misunderstanding. Once at the park, I used one of the spanking new wooden picnic tables to write in my journal, an exercise that actually yielded a lot more clarity and compassion than I was expecting. The sun set shortly thereafter, thus closing the park, so I packed up and made the return trek home.

All told, including my initial 2.2 miles with Karl, I walked 7.6 miles yesterday.

Then today I walked a total of 8 miles even.

Yep. And I can attest: I can barely keep my eyes open. But the most interesting aspect of this is how much my feet ache. I never would’ve guessed that aching feet would be the predominant sequelae to my walking barely 8 miles a day. That just sounds so – mundane, I guess. But here I am.

Aching Feet – But Some Great Benefits, Too

But aside from the aching feet (and looking like I’m about 100 years old when I first get up from the couch to retrieve something from another room), I feel great on many levels.

I love logging some significant miles under my belt – if nothing else, it gives me an area of life that I can playfully compete with my son. (AS IF.) (He’s a runner and is starting to train for bigger and better competitions, so…the tracking of my mileage is just a fun distraction ‘thing’ we do for laughs.)

I also love/hate pushing myself a bit more. Our baseline 2.2 miles is a wonderful daily practice (and is essential to our pups’ health and happiness as well), but I can feel a difference when I walk for more miles.

I’ve slept like a rock. And I’m hoping the extra miles will burn off the after-effects of the recent spate of birthday cakes a bit more quickly.

Inspiration and Change

But my greatest wish/desire/goal?  I’m hoping this increased time spent directly one-on-one with Mother Earth will inspire me to whip open my laptop upon my return each day and work enthusiastically on my next project. While I’ve had the rough material ready to write for decades, I know my perspective shifts with each extra day I live, and I am eager to see the direction my tale ultimately takes. (That’s where some trust comes in.)

There is change in the air. My goal is to harness that change and apply it to my body, my attitude, my service, and my life in general. One step at a time. One picked-up cigarette butt at a time. One typed word at a time.

But in the meantime…I’m going to get some sleep!

(T-964)