The Walk

Typically, my days during the school year begin before six AM when I do the usual morning activities. It's out the door before seven and then I'm at my wonderful school, staying active and averaging at least a mile of running around each day--sometimes in heels. When the school day is over, it's time to kick in mom mode--if I'm not tutoring or attending an afterschool meeting. Even on the days when Drew spends the night with his father, he is still with me until at least five. Other nights, he is mine all night long (which I LOVE, by the way) and we get busy right away with homework, dinner and then the bedtime rituals of showering, teeth brushing and sometimes button pushing just for fun. When I'm alone, the routine gets mixed up a bit. No matter my situation, though, every night come hell or high water, I try to sneak in a walk. It's usually embedded somewhere between dinner and bath. Depending on the night, my daily trek takes on two very different looks and feels. 

 When I'm alone and my shoes are tied and hair pulled off my head, I always always ALWAYS plug a set of earbuds into my cellphone which also acts as my pedometer. It's out the backdoor and down the steps of the deck usually with my music blaring so loudly that I can't hear the outside world.The other thing I have gotten into the habit of doing is contacting a really great friend of mine to let her know that I'm leaving. I'm a single woman who could be missing for quite awhile before someone realized it and after some creepster who wasn't wearing a shirt all but crashed his Redneck truck trying to crane his head to watch me, I feel it's important at least one person knows I'm out.

 My house sits on top of a big hill so the walking fun always begins with a saunter down the hill. Here's my first confession: depending on what kind of music is playing in my ears, sometimes I dance down the hill more than walk. The dance has gotten even more interesting lately since recent rainstorms have turned my driveway into a veritable obstacle course and I have to hop (sometimes it's more like a ballet leap) over mini ravines that have been carved into the dirt. I'm sure that if any of my neighbors have been peeking out of their windows when I'm going by they've gotten quite a chuckle. I'm sure I look like a moron, but I don't think I care. The dance party ends when I clear the trees and reach the spot where the mailboxes are. Then, it's straight up walking and by up, I mean right up a thigh burning hill. It doesn't matter how many times I climb up there, every time, it hurts and I'm glad when things get flat. After that, it's to the stop sign of my development and to the right for a walk at least to the next one but mot of the time all the way to the main road.

 At this point, I always pull an earbud out of the ear closest to the road. I've almost been hit at least ten times now so I want to be able to hear what's coming so I can time my leap into the weeds on the side of the road. My plan each time is to high tail it as far as I can before the sun begins to set and then turn around and come back. Lately, I've also been trying to sneak in little snippets of running whenever possible. And, when I say snippet, I mean it. It's just little spurts until I'm heaving in agony like a fish out of water. 

 These walks alone are a highly reflective time. It's when I figure out what's going on in my life, when I balance my issues and when I deal with my issues. The day that my Gram died, I walked under a veil of tears. Still, it was a good time for me to get rid of them while no one was watching. I must confess that that's not the only time that I've cried on my walks. It happens more than I'd like. When I'm angry, every step helps me to find the clarity that I'm missing so that I don't go Italian on anyone. When I'm happy, my little jaunt only fuels it. It's amazing how this little exercise that began as a way to continue losing weight has also given me mental stability. 

 Depending on how far I want to make it on any given day, I sometimes find ways to sneak in extra steps. It's been getting darker sooner so many times, I finish out in my subdivision. To the stop sign and back is roughly a half mile and sometimes I'll retrace that path two to three times before going home. Sometimes, I also hit the little side street in the subdivision. Anything to burn more calories. Then it's home to find water and--most likely--bed. 

 Walks on Drew days are very different and, I have to say, a lot more fun. Usually then begin with his attaching himself to my back until we know for sure whether or not the neighbor's dogs are out. If they are, he stays there until we reach the mailboxes. If not, it's a race down the hill. The walk up the next one usually involves some complaining but it's also a time that he and I look at the ducks on one side of the road. The people on the other have these cute little Corgi dogs that seem to wiggle their fat little tushs when they walk. Drew is always craning his head, hoping to get a glimpse of them. I think one day he's going to try to stick one under his arm and hightail it home. Good luck to those little doggies. 

 I know how hard the walk up the hill is for me and so I'm sure it is for Drew too. He lets me know how much he's struggling by the constant amount of grunting and complaining he does. Halfway up, we always stop and turn around to look back down. Drew likes to look at the pathways made by the rain racing down the hill. He makes up stories and characters based on the images he sees in the dirt. "Do you see it mom? That one looks like an ant warrior. There are his anntennae." Usually I can't see it but I pretend because I love to hear his stories. 

 Once we've made it up the hill and past the first few houses, there's a large field where weeds grow. We always stop there--sometimes on the way up, sometimes on the way back, sometimes both times--to pick the weeds and play the game "is it a tree or a bush?" In fact, a lot of our walk is spent stopping to look at bugs, rock, weeds, or sometimes, even to talk to a random tree or two. It's all about discovering what's around us. I don't really feel bad about the fact that we're not always in constant motion because most of the time, once we've cleared the big hill, Drew and I are racing toward the mailbox, and sometimes even playing tag. It's more like many little sprints rather than a walk and it NEVER EVER happens in a straight line. We span the whole length of the road, we run back and forth and sometimes even in circles. To the untrained eye, I'm sure we look insane. Maybe that's because we really are. 

 When I have Drew out on walks, we never leave the subdivison. He always asks and I always say no. Walking on the narrow road by our house is too dangerous for him. So, we stop at the signs and then we commence with what I call word play. I make him rearrang the letters in the word stop. Sometimes I force him to add or take away letters to make new words. When we're feeling really ambitious, he has to do it to the road sign too. What can I say? I'm always in teacher mode. The walk home is the same process. It's never a perfect shot from here to there. It usually involves a race and sometimes what I call tackle running which is when Drew all but tries to throw me to the ground so he can win. Sometimes we collect things to take home with us. Then, we run down the hill and trudge up the next one, only to collapse into two sweaty heaps the moment we enter the door. Snuggling time always follows. That happens to be my favorite part of the day.

 I'm not sure which version of my walks I like the best. My time by myself is good for my mind but my time with Drew fills my soul and reminds me that I'm loved and I love someone else. Either way, the time I've spent feet to road have taught me so much about myself and where I fit into the world. They are both energizing and both will be in my life for years to come.