10 Things I’ve Learned on Long Walks

I’ve become a bit of a hiker lately. Why? you might ask (as I do myself when miles from home). Mostly because this is one of the few ways to exercise that I can actually enjoy. At this stage of my life, it gets ever harder to willingly do those things I don’t enjoy.

In the past two days, I’ve walked about three-and-a-half miles each day (spelled out this way to help underscore the distance). Yesterday I took my camera and meandered a bit, stopping to take pictures along the way. Today I was given a mission from my husband to retrieve a bottle of catsup from the grocery store. I accepted the challenge because it’s a favorite walk and Starbucks is next to the grocery store; they have my favorite iced tea.

What I’ve learned is that it’s not just exercise; it’s a learning experience. And so, here are 10 things I’ve learned on my long walks.

#1 – I’m not much of a photographer. Despite the fact that I live with an accomplished photographer (my husband, Mike) and I know some talented photographers whose work I admire (Joye Arden Durham and Stephanie Egan), I do not share their gift for this. I do, however, believe I might be the first Impressionist photographer. An inability to focus accurately on subject matter can result in the “painted tulips” you see above.  Hard to believe I once made a living taking photographs!
#2 – Joggers do not smile while jogging as much as walkers do when walking. I suspect they (the joggers) are unhappy because their ankle bones are working their way up to their rear ends, painfully. Admittedly, I have encountered the occasional unsmiling walker, but there is always a percentage of people with deep psychological miseries for whom even a good walk is not an antidote.

#3 – People in cars are alternately very polite to walkers crossing the street into which they want to turn or, frighteningly, oblivious to the walkers until they jam on their brakes, causing walkers to become jumpers. It pays to be watchful when crossing a street that is clear of cars when you step out; they will sneak up on you.

#4 – I notice something new every time I walk. These are streets I’ve driven on for more than a decade, but driving doesn’t allow one to notice the hundreds of details of landscaping and architecture that one sees when walking. Honestly, I’m seeing houses I’ve never actually noticed at all, as well as the amazing beauty on these spring days of flowers, both cultivated and wild.

#5 – Dreams have a way of surviving, even when circumstances conspire to defeat them. There are several pieces of land along my walks that were being developed several years ago, but that were stymied by the economic downturn. Some houses sat unfinished for a couple of years, but now building is beginning again. At least a couple of workers are back in the development with a Mediterranean flair that has only one mostly finished home to go with its dry fountains and walls bright with yellow vines.

#6 – My Southern upbringing requires that I acknowledge people as I meet them on the sidewalk. It’s interesting to note how many people seem surprised that I speak, but most do speak back. Some people say we’ve lost our social skills. Maybe we’re just not practicing them as much because we’re in cars or in public places where we’re actually trying to maintain our bubble of privacy against all those we don’t know.

#7 – Despite lifelong teasing about my pale skin, my über-whiteness does not cause accidents. One of the health benefits of being outdoors in the sunshine is absorbing Vitamin D. Since my doctor seems concerned that I might not be getting enough Vitamin D to keep my bones healthy (rickets, anyone?), I’ve allowed myself to take my absurdly white skin out where it can be seen, potentially causing accidents when drivers are blinded by the sun’s reflection off my legs. Thus far, no crashes have occurred.

#8 – Grocery check-out clerks must experience a lot of strange things. When I went into the store to purchase the aforementioned catsup for my husband, I sensed that the young man checking me out was cool with the old lady in the Paddington Bear hat and sunglasses quibbling about the price of the catsup and handled it well until I told him I didn’t need a bag because I could put it in my backpack. I suspect he’ll have an extra beer when he gets off work tonight and maybe his buddies will pay for it when he tells them about weird old lady with what he probably perceived as dementia.  He was kind, but I noticed that he backed away when I rejected the bag and took off my backpack to put in the catsup.

#9 – Music is, in fact, the universal language. When stopping for my iced tea at Starbucks, I picked up an Adele CD while waiting. This began a five-minute conversation with the young woman behind the counter in which we traded favorite musicians and songs, ranging from the Avett Brothers to Joss Stone, Ruthie Foster, Grace and the Nocturnals and Tyrone Wells. She was right about Wells.  His “Seabreeze” is now on my iTunes list to download. I hope she likes the ones I suggested that she hadn’t heard.

#10 – Whether you’re traveling halfway around the world or just walking a few miles, it’s nice to come home again. One of the pleasures of my walks is the simple one of coming up the walk and into the front door. When we’re in the car, we come in through the garage and kitchen door. That's okay, but this front door thing is different.  There’s something satisfying about entering the house, especially after a good walk, something that says I’m home and reminds me of the first time I came into this house and why, after looking at so many others with the realtor, we came back to this one. We felt at home here, somehow knowing that this would be a great place to return from life’s experiences, a place of comfort and peace, a place to share with family and friends. Somehow all those feelings come back to me more vividly when I walk through that front door.