Walking

All sorts and conditions.

I have been exercising regularly for the last forty years or so. I tried jogging (NO!). I swam for a number of years. I would feel dread on the way to the swimming pool and whistle all the way home.

Throughout, I’ve been a walker—sometimes vigorously attacking steep neighborhood streets. But not now. I’ve mellowed and so has my walking.

The most refreshing walks are the ones where I don’t take distracting thoughts with me. That’s not always possible. Sometimes those tag-alongs produce welcome insights.

The neighborhood walks I love the most are the ones when the sun is awakening the morning.  A few leaves lighten, then some more and after a while the whole tree is shining. Somehow, and I don’t know why, as the world comes alive, I feel more alive—and more grateful. 

Live oaks have gotten my attention recently. They don’t grow straight up like most trees. No, they venture far to the left or to the right. They defy gravity. What a root system!  Which makes me ponder—what about my root system?

I see momma’s and poppa’s pushing strollers, small children learning to ride their bikes, dogs of all variety, young women and men training for who knows what—the Boston Marathon? All sorts and conditions.

On my best days, I get home and “I say to myself, what a wonderful world!”