Are you a walker? Yes, you are a walker. What kind of walker? Walk into the kitchen to find something to nibble on walker?. Walk the dog walker. Walk to transportation walker. All kinds. This is something we all do.
I saw a story on TV once about a runner (surely he did a little walking) whose sole mode of transportation was his feet. I cannot remember the country where he lived, but it was not an advanced one. I guess he made the news because he was on his way to vote. No telling how many towns or villages he went through to get to his polling place. They said he ran for hours. WOW! I don’t know how many miles he traveled but it was that important to him to vote. Oh how I wish we Americans shared that passion to vote. I digressed for a moment.
Walking in my neighborhood
My neighborhood is made for good exercise walking. Hills and more hills. I walk briskly. I notice now, unfortunately, that I am unable to just go for a casual stroll. A stroll turns into brisk walking. Weird. I meet people, many impressed that I am so dedicated. When I miss the walks for awhile, some people will ask where I’ve been. Am I doing ok? Nice to be thought of. Some people stop their cars, poke their head out the window, and give words of encouragement and support, ask questions. It’s great.
For a lot of us, it’s becoming dangerous to walk. I was walking in a pedestrian crosswalk once and got hit by a car. That’s a story that I’ll share another day.
My subdivision is not large, somewhat small really. This doesn’t prevent people from driving like they’re on an interstate or on their way to a fire. On a walk the other day I happened upon a young mother working in her front yard. I said, “I like your sign.” It was one of those that said something like “Slow, children at play.” I suggested she get about 10 more and place them all in a row at the edge of her front yard. ” Make a statement” I said. Sadly, people would still speed and have an attitude toward her then. “Who are you to ask me to slow down?” I am pondering getting her more signs to use. She’s afraid for her daughter and their dog to be in their front yard. This shouldn’t be. It makes me mad.
Making a run for it
I finally had to quit listening to my iShuffle while walking. You really have to be aware. One of the main streets here is a huge hill. People fly down it. On occasion I will move my arms the way a baseball umpire does when he calls “Safe.” I don’t do that very often now.
Last year I waved “safe” at a big white F-150 barreling down the hill as I was walking Ellie. He stopped a little way past me and asked what my problem was. I said I don’t understand why you are speeding down the road like that. He said he wasn’t speeding. Back and forth ensued. He said if I said one more word he was coming after me. I opened my mouth to say something (I know, I should have left that alone), and he immediately jumped in his truck. He backed up, turned around and drove straight at me. I was terrified. I was running as fast as I could holding Ellie in my arms. I ran up to a neighbor’s door, and he turned around and left. Close call.
I contacted the police. An attorney told me later that this guy had committed aggravated assault. I did not know that at the time.
I told the police what happened. All they said they could do was file a charge against him. Yeah, that sounds like a great idea to me. Let’s give the road rage guy an opportunity for retaliation. He drove by our house a time or two after that, only once yelling out the window, “You’re messing with the wrong guy.” I only go down his street now with my husband when we walk Daisy.
I enjoy walking. It clears the cobwebs. Fresh, invigorating air in fall and winter. Ideas pop up. You end up ruminating on something and pass the street you usually turn onto on your route. You are doing something your body wants and needs. Afterwards you are glad you made the effort.
Keep on Truckin’ . . .