Walk This Way
In which I find myself feeling a bit, er, out of step with the Times
As seen on this morning’s walk on Silver Sands beach
I am, and always have been, an inveterate walker.
When I was a kid and then a teen and then a young adult and then a not-so-young adult, I walked a daily three-mile, hilly route through my suburban Rockville, MD neighborhood. Often my mom, from whom I’m sure I inherited my walking gene, would walk with me. And we’re not talking lazy strolls here; Ma and I were equally determined to make every step (of what we’d now call a power walk) count, and we both walked really, really fast. (I still do; sorry if you can’t keep up!)
My BFF Mary and I walked endlessly back and forth between our next-door homes and the two shopping centers our folks allowed us to travel to by foot. As we walked, we talked, we giggled, and we dreamed about what lay ahead.
My friend Bridget, whom I met at Robert E. Peary High School, and I discovered our shared sensibilities, particularly our sardonic senses of humor, on our frequent walks through the neighborhood. We laughed our asses off then, and we laugh our asses off now.
When I was raising my kids in rural Connecticut and feeling like quite the square peg, I miraculously found a friend in Jorie, two of whose four kids were in the same grades as mine. We got each other immediately. We also both had big dogs who needed long walks, and walk we did, sometimes for hours at a time, usually on the nearby rails-to-trails path. Those long talks on those long walks ultimately saved my soul, and I will be forever grateful for every step we’ve taken together.
As Thanksgiving approaches, I remember my own little family’s Turkey-Day tradition of taking a bracing walk on that same path, sometimes with the additional company of my mom, my brother, and our friend Jan.
When I moved to Hartford, I was delighted to learn that the historic and glorious Elizabeth Park was just the right distance from my condo for a perfect daily hike.
And now that I live mostly at the beach, I make a point of taking a beach walk every day. Lately I’ve added a second, nighttime walk around the neighborhood, which takes on a whole new, mysterious character when the sun goes down and the breeze picks up.
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Unless I’m walking in company with a friend, I walk in silence. I can’t imagine talking on my phone while walking. Or walking with earbuds plugged in, listening to who knows what. There’s nothing I’d rather tune in to than the gentle slapping of the waves, the calls of the shore birds, the quiet clang of the buoy bell, the rustle of the seagrass as deer sidle through.
So I was flabbergasted by this story in today’s New York Times: “How to Trick Yourself Into Taking a Walk.”
Trick myself?
How about TREAT myself?
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Walking, for me, is not just about the physical pleasure of moving my body through space. It’s a way of being in the world.
It’s the way I’ve always been in the world.
It’s the way I hope to forever be in this stunningly beautiful, incredibly nuanced, exquisitely designed world we’re privileged to share.
So, come on. Let’s go for a walk.
And, hey, what say we leave the earbuds at home.
I confess that aside from my two-mile daily perambulation with our big, dumb dog, I don't walk that much in our corner of suburbia. Walking through the neighborhood is kind of boring and beyond the neighborhood -- busy commuter roads -- is just ugly. When we're in London, though -- often, now that we have a granddaughter there -- I probably walk six or seven miles a day, occasionally 10 or 11. It's all new to me so I'm always entertained. Maybe I need to move to a city here, so I'll be forced to walk more.
This is a beautifully thoughtful piece. I felt a calm and connection come over me (like when I take my walks!) just reading your lovely prose. Thank you. I also have a fast stride and sometime soon I shall tell you my funny story about walking across the New Haven Green decades ago with my sister and a local bank loan officer...