When I Walk

Things happen when I walk.

Last month, as I made a left turn onto Jamison Place Road from my corner of Marilyn Court, a man on his bicycle rolled on by. This, in and of itself, is not unusual. Rather commonplace, really. However, the fact that he wore a safety helmet, rode without using his hands, and and casually balanced a ceramic mug of steaming coffee in the process -- I swear a wee cloud of vapor was visible -- all the while appearing as comfortable and serene as he would at his breakfast table with newspaper and same aforementioned mug, was exceptionally unusual.

I needed that. It lasted me the entire week. I still smile when I recall the amusing spectacle he afforded my eyes. I wonder what he did when he reached the busy intersection just two blocks down. I didn't look back.

Last week, a woman and her senior yellow Labrador dog were slowly ambling around a wide corner. The owner displayed affectionate patience with her charge, who was exhibiting the belly girth, tottering gait and gray mantle typical of older house-bound canines. Curious, I offered a cheery hello and wondered after the age of this matronly mutt. "She's thirteen years old. I take her out when I can. She still loves to get outside though she can barely make it home." I commented on her sweetness of spirit and went on my merry way. My Husky-mix dog is thirteen years old, too, with no extra fat around the middle, and though she has mild arthritis in both hips, she can jauntily trot a mile in hot weather and two miles when temperatures cool down. In conditions both moderate and extreme, dry and wet, I've walked her almost every day for over twelve years. I experienced a moment of pride in realizing I had done good by my Panda-girl despite my many worrisome thoughts that I didn't spend the kind of time with her that I did with my other dogs back in my childhood.

I needed that. I've kept both of us healthy and active and with shiny coats, er, hair, to boot! We love our daily meanderings though I don't necessarily enjoy sniffing urine stains and scat with the same enthusiasm as does she: her morning newspaper, I call it. That IS time I spend, and spent, well with woman's-best-friend.

This week, my friend and neighbor, Betsy, shot me an e-mail, wondering if I wanted to pound the pavement with her. Overcast skies threatened; rain had continually entered and exited all morning. "Let's go!" I typed back. We grabbed our shoes and our leashes -- for our mutual furry friends, not one another -- and ventured forth. Our first mile was dry; we dropped off our pets and headed back out as a fine drizzle began to descend. Within a quarter of a mile, we were soaked as showers increased and decreased in intensity. For the next two miles, we wandered a wide circuit which pulled us along familiar streets and past recognizable homes, but everything felt different. Fresh, alive and alert. Our conversations, those intense back-and-forth exchanges which momentarily disassemble and reconfigure the problems of our worlds and a few in the outlying solar systems - you know the ones - were punctuated by outbursts from commiserating clouds which cried down over us, soaking our fronts and dampening our behinds. Upon reaching our respective driveways, the sun scattered the heavenly waters and daylight broke the spell. We returned to our domestic duties, exhilarated and thankful.

I needed that. Moments before Betsy's request, my goal involved beating the rain to the punch or opting for a recorded exercise DVD. How very dreary and isolating that would have been. Much better to have connected beneath the benediction of raindrops and revelations with a lovely woman as much in need of companionship that morning as was I.

Tomorrow, I will pull on my Nike sports shorts and a matching top, perhaps the plum or the pink. Don't know yet. I shall rub foot cream on my tootsies before donning socks that will, yes, complement the rest of my ensemble. In my ears, tiny stud earrings will sparkle because I can't venture out with empty lobes. Goodness, no! And, they too, will be of a shade in keeping with the overall appearance. My already-worn, two-and-a-half-month-old, pink and silver Mizuno running shoes will be affixed to my size 9 1/2 feet, ready for yet another domestic adventure measured in sidewalk cracks, favorite yards and stretch stops. On my face, I will slather 55+ SPF sunscreen; my eyes will be shielded behind huge Jackie-O's (as the girls fondly refer to my sunglasses). I may or may not have the I-POD with audio book egging me on. Perhaps I'll partner up with Maggie this time. I might go a tad extra with Panda. I should go a might longer for me. And, I'll be ready for whatever comes my way.

Things happen when I walk.