Unfortunately, as much as I'd sworn I'd get back to walking or running on a daily basis, things (read: life) happens. Jobs come up - definitely a good thing, especially when it comes to paying bills. Weather gets a little dicey. Early morning appointments come up. What was it John Lennon said? Something about, "Life is what happens when we're busy making other plans"?
Yesterday was one of my work days. It's only three hours a day, three days a week, along with an extra hour over the weekend. A few extra hours would help, but I'm sure not knocking it. But then there were a few errands that needed running. J. wanted to come along, but he needed a shower, first. Later, there were problems with M. getting picked up from work and I spent an hour or so attached to the computer and phone, trying to get him picked up. And then...and then...and then...Sound familiar? Yeah, we all have days when we feel like we haven't really gotten anything constructive done, but you blink and think, Geez, where'd the day go?
During the hour or so I was trying to get M.'s ride worked out, several people walked by. Not just aimlessly wandering, but walking for exercise, getting the heart rate up, getting fresh out, out there walking, and it clicked. While I prefer exercising in the morning, I could conceivably get out in the late afternoon. Please keep your Well, duh! comments to yourself; my snarky inner voice is way ahead of you.
After M. finally got home, I grabbed my Converse high tops - not my usual running shoes, but that's fine - and put them on.
"You're going out?" J. asked. "Now?"
"Yup," I replied.
He mulled this over a minute or so before asking, "You were planning on spaghetti tonight, right? I'll put the water on at seven."
I thanked him and headed out.
There's one route I use when time is limited. It's a mile out, a mile back, mostly cross-country. Takes all of maybe a minute or so to get out of the neighborhood and into the back entrance of a local park. Once there, there are any number of directions to go. Heading south along a dirt path, there was a stand of cypress trees to the right. They're in a retention area. Most of the time, the ground is dry, but during Florida's rainy season, the trees are suddenly in a small pond. This time of year, their leaves brown up before falling.
On the left is a drainage ditch, with a stable on the other side of the ditch. For a while, there was one lone horse in this particular stable, though the owners have now rented out all the stalls. It's always interesting to see the activity around the place. Late afternoons and weekends seem to be the busiest times.
After crossing a three-lane street (yes, three lane - one heading west, one east, and the center as a turn lane for either direction), the path shifts a little. The ditch is now on the right, separating the dirt path from the back side of a small community of townhouses, which then ends and another property with stable and horses begins.
On the left are woods, a pond, and a house set far-off-the-beaten-path. Originally built in the early part of the twentieth century, it was moved to its current site maybe 15 years ago, give or take.
This part of the path is great for contemplation: there's very little noise one would associate with heavily populated areas, lots of wind-in-the-tree-type-rustling, birds, an occasional whinny from the nearby horses. Occasionally, I'll even hear the raucous cry from the nearby peacocks that roam the area.
As I walked along, my mind wandered. I even got the chance to try out the camera feature of my new cellphone that my daughter, M.H., had picked up, posting a couple of photos on Facebook.
I finally made it to the far end of the path, where it hit a two-lane road. Turning right or left would have taken me along areas where a few large houses with acres and acres and stables are, while straight ahead would have taken me to a small horse park, replete with wetlands and a boardwalk through the woods. Instead, I turned to head back.
About this time, my cellphone rang. It was J., letting me know that he'd just put the water on for the spaghetti.
"Any idea how long 'til you're home?" I told him where I was and that it'd probably be another fifteen minutes before I'd be there. "I can see a car's headlights in the distance," he told me. "They look like they're from that moved-in house." They were. Someone was just leaving the property.
"I'm about to pass that house," I told him.
We chatted a few minutes before he wandered back inside to deal with fixing dinner.
When I hit the neighborhood again, I saw one of our neighbors. She was walking a small dog that I'd never seen before. Turns out she and her husband had just adopted Gus a month or two ago.
"I've never had a small dog before," she told me. "But when I saw this guy at the pet rescue place, it was love at first site." We talked as we headed north toward our respective homes, with Gus occasionally coming up to me so I could scratch his head. We parted company at our driveways.
By this time, the spaghetti and garlic bread were ready. For some strange reason, I didn't mind washing the dishes afterwards. Somehow, having someone else fix dinner while I'm out walking seemed to help.
I'd try that again this evening, but two nights in a row might be pushing it. But evening walks are definitely something I'll consider when mornings get too hectic.
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