Man, do I miss walking.
Every time I think, “Hey, maybe I should go take a walk!” I’m all “No it’s too hot” or “No I’m too tired.” But jeez, when I do actually get over myself and take a walk, by the end of it I am thankful that I did it, possibly even joyous. It’s a good activity; it’s what we as bipeds were built for. We don’t swing through trees (all the time); we don’t fly through the air (without assistance, if we want to live)…we walk.
The activity awakens me, brings up good memories, gets the blood flowing. I get good ideas. I walked a lot as a teenager, even through the crappy not-so-nice streets on my side of the tracks. Aside from bicycling, it was my main mode of transportation. When I graduated school and went on to college, I walked through the streets around campus and around Arkadelphia more often than I rode my bike, blissfully so. It was my solace, my personal space, a world-sized room for introspection. On the occasions where I walked with friends, it was a bonding experience (my god, do I miss those days).
I should walk more. I keep saying that. I feel like I should bike more, too. Biking feels safer on the paranoia scale because, you know, walking puts you at ground level and on a 1:1 matched velocity with trouble. But it’s not nearly as pedestrian as walking (Hah! Get it?). It’s more a Point A to Point B activity; more huff, less duff.
When I walk, my situational awareness allows me to notice things in the neighborhood in realtime, and subtle bits of miscellany pop into my attention: the shape of the curb connotes the former presence of a driveway onto an abandoned lot; a herd of cats are holding quorum in front of someone’s porch; the mercury-vapor streetlight someone installed on their garage casts a pleasing glow over their well-manicured lawn. These details are fuel for inspiration and a balm for my fevered ego.
Tonight’s walk was necessary, and I swear this time I’ll do it again soon (right, sure). If only I could convince others to join me. That’s the good stuff.