An ode to walking around

The apartment I rent is directly across the street from an elementary school. Most days I’m here, I sit out on the balcony and entertain myself with the clusterf*ck that is end of day pick-up. There are a few rules for picking up your kid. There’s an established order. There is a line. The other day when I was making a pick-up of my own, I made a faux pas. I was fetching some sneakers that would be given to our school’s children from another school doing the same for it’s own students who presumably had feet of different sizes. (I’m not familiar with the details. I was an errand boy for a higher up.) I pulled into the driveway of the school and passed a short row of cars before pulling to the side to stop and look around for the woman I was meeting. It turned out I was in the wrong spot but in the few minutes it took me to figure out where I should go, the mom from the first car behind me came to my window to let me know I had cut the pick-up line. Pick-up lines are serious. I enjoy the daily drama of cars inching along to get their students while others choose to park—sometimes with questionable merit or in direct defiance of a posted sign—along the road. They get out and walk toward the school doors, crossing the street haphazardly. I have a great view of the chaos. It’s low key mayhem and I love it. I’m honestly shocked I’ve never seen a fender bender.

I enjoy watching people from my balcony. Maybe that makes me creepy but I don’t care. If I am in a good mood I play a game where I imagine the people’s thoughts about themselves are really positive. I become their internal cheerleader for whatever it is they are doing in the moment. If it’s someone who is clearly out for the exercise, I imagine they think something like “I am doing such a good job for my heart while I’m out on this walk.” Or maybe they are just enjoying the day, “this warm sunlight and fresh air are doing wonderful things for my body.” If they are with someone else, I imagine they are appreciating that person extra in that moment. I play the game to keep my thoughts light.

The other day I watched a gentleman come out of the gym next door. I’ll describe him as a man who clearly dedicated time to his physique. He opened his car and deposited a water jug and some other personal belongings. He shut the door, walked around to the back of the car, and suddenly dropped his butt to the ground, which alarmed me at first, but he was only stretching. Ah ha! He’s going to do his cardio outdoors. Good man! I, too, prefer an outdoor circuit. In my game he was like “Sh*t, that was a great workout and now I’m going for a good run to care well for my heart and lungs. I have treated my body right today. I look good and no woman can resist me.” Honestly, I was happy for him. Then he locked his car five times. The first three in quick succession as he crossed the street and then two more a few strides into his jog down the hill. His thoughts were different then those I had given him. Mine made him confident, even a little cocksure, (I make judgements. I’m working on it.) but his actions indicated he felt fearful, possessive, and untrusting. I wished I could free him of that burden before his run. If I was a different person I’d have yelled. “I’ll keep an eye on it for you!” I didn’t yell for a lot of reasons, but one was that it might make him more anxious. If a total stranger was like “I just saw where you put all your valuables and I also understand that you are about to leave them unattended for a period of time!”… Do you get what I mean? I know I am not going to steal his stuff, but he doesn’t. Also, if he had earbuds in and didn’t hear me, I’d never recover from the embarrassment. Yelling into the air? Can you imagine?!

The apartment building is in a good location for a brisk workout. The street I live on is short, but not too short, and there’s a distinct loop. The complex sits on the middle of a hill so you can walk half way up, then all the way down, then half way up again or visa versa. I imagine people who are into heart rate monitoring find the layout beneficial. Lately, my walks are leaning too far toward Fitness. Optimization. Health. I slack off each winter and this year that slacking has stretched far into other seasons. I’m trying to commit to myself at least. For me walking is so much more than exercise. It’s a time to check out the neighborhood. See what everybody’s planting. I love being able to tell a neighbor how beautiful their garden is as they’re working in it. I love seeing holiday decorations pop up. I love saying hello to people as I pass them. I love meeting dogs. I love the feeling of sunlight on my skin, and breeze through my hair. I love listening to the rhythm of my own footsteps on pavement. There are no downsides. Sometimes I even talk to myself a little! I know how that looks. But walking is a good time to think. All my best thinking has been done while walking. What is life about if you can’t take a walk with yourself? Occasionally, I don’t listen to me and I have to get a little assertive. I can imagine what people think if I gesture too broadly mumbling to myself as I pass their open window. Suddenly their view of me changes like the man who locked his car so many times. Again if I was someone who yelled at strangers I’d say “Don’t worry, I’m fine! Walking around is one of my favorite activities!”

I love to walk right out the front door, taking nothing but my keys. It feels rebellious in today’s world. I have these great shoes I bought on sale. They were exactly what I was looking for at seventy percent off and one of the few pairs left was my size! It felt like the universe was urging me to buy them. They look like lace up high tops but they have a zipper on the side. I can slip them on, bend at the waist, and in one motion with both hands, zip the left and right at once. (I usually do them one at a time though, I am a lady after all.) I feel like hot sh*t in my zip up high tops. At the apartment my life is such that I can think I’d like to take a walk and be out the door feeling like hot sh*t in a minute flat. It’s liberating. The other day I got a bee in my butt, zipped up my shoes, and did the loop in pants that were a little too big, so I had to hold them up the whole way around like a modern day debutante, too stubborn to give in to the patriarchal construct of athleisure. It feels exhilarating to go out in whatever I’m wearing. I’d rather not make a whole thing of it.

I’m fortunate to have lots of opportunities to pound the pavement throughout the day. Caring for an energetic dog means extra walking. When I walk with Ink, I have a true companion. She appreciates the walk even more than I do. I am forever fascinated by how she perceives the world and how different it must be from me. When I resign to that, when I really sink deep into the understanding that our walk is fundamentally different for her, I want to give her every opportunity to do whatever her dog brain is telling her to do in that moment. I notice little decisions that she makes. She’ll walk in the bluegrass but prefers the sidewalk to the zoysia, except on hot summer days when the sidewalk is too warm for her paws. She trots a little slower through the patches of shade. She mostly keeps her head down. I’ve started to appreciate standing in the sunshine sniffing a specific blade of grass for a full minute. What is she getting from it? I try to get that too. I also take Ink with me every weekday when I enjoy at least one walk to the bus stop to see my son either off too or home from school. This week the last day of school was a half day and my usual alarm (the duck quack I rely on every day at 4:08 pm) would not have been helpful. I headed down a few minutes early to be sure I wouldn’t miss his arrival. I hate being late, for my kids especially. I sat with Ink on my neighbors lawn under the shade of a maple tree and tied blades of grass in knots. I was trying to fashion a ring from a long-stemmed leaf I found when the bus pulled up and my kid bounded down the steps. I bet he doesn’t even think about his ankles. I put my arm around him and together we walked the short distance back to the house as he filled me in on his day. I am grateful for my walks to the bus stop. I relish the chance to pause.

I don’t know much about spirituality, but my gut tells me that the simplest activities leave the most potential for connection with something greater. If some guy did drop our nude bodies into a garden, I’m pretty sure he didn’t expect us to stay fit on a treadmill. I know I feel the most spiritually aligned when I’m out on a walk noting the specifics of the sky that day. (It’s never the same twice.) Being out in nature reminds me of my small place in this huge world littered with beautiful things. They’re hard to miss when you walk past. I guess you could be distracted. Maybe that’s what feels so good about walking without my phone. Without it I’m free to really lock in on world beauty. And in times I’ve found myself stuck in an unwanted mood, it’s always improved after a long walk. Walking feels like what I am supposed to do, and in a mind like mine, there aren’t many things that feel like that. Each walk is a chance to reset the rhythm of my body to thump in time with my mind while I cover ground. It’s a chance to balance. Whenever I feel unstable or out of control, the best thing I can do is put one foot in front of the other and keep going.