Another Great Walk

I love when I take the time to walk!

Normally I work out on Saturdays, but my trainer was taking a long weekend, so I missed that beginning to my day. Then, I drove 200 miles (round trip) to drop off a kid at camp in the beautiful Virginia Blue Ridge. I stayed a couple of hours out there, touring a museum (Museum of the Shenandoah) and garden I had heard about. Nice, but not terribly strenuous. By then, time to get ready for the family dinner, with my ration of half a beer. That led to an hour on the couch, finishing a book.

I was finally having my late-evening resurgence of energy - and it wasn't even really late - just after eight, and still light out. So I put on the walking shoes and headed out the door.

I love walking at night, but I'm aware I'm a small woman, and I need to stay safe. I have an overly protective dog and a walk with my dog is all about being hyper-alert to the dog and our surroundings so she doesn't lunge at some passing bicyclist with unfortunate results. That means she doesn't come when I want to think about something other than her. I worked out the safe route as I went, and it all seemed fine.

There's a lot to look at during a walk. I live on the fall line where the piedmont meets the coastal plain. That means broken hilly terrain throughout. It's a close-in suburb, laid out just after the Civil War as a cool summer resort a full 250 feet higher in elevation than the core of the marshy sea-level District eight miles away. It's a mix of large authentic nineteenth century Victorians, smaller late nineteenth and earlier twentieth century bungalows and cottages, and mid-century post WWII ramblers and split-levels infilled between them. The broken terrain leads to unusual three dimensional lots with stonework engineering to create level spots for foundations and gardens. Large soul-less apartment buildings built in the fifties and sixties cluster along the road between me and the main street.  On hot summer nights, folks are out and about. I was ignored as I walk through the busy gathering place in front of the tiny brand-x convenience store and the unusual "chinese food subs and wings" takeout on the street in front of the apartments.

Memories and information create layers of meaning as I look around me. I cut up a street where I had considered buying a house when first I moved to the area. I always look at it and think about what might have been. I passed houses where the kids friends live, where I've been to pizza parties and potlucks. Walking along our funky Main Street on this summer holiday weekend, I heard a live band in someone's back yard rehearsing for a gig tomorrow. I passed two clowns, complete with wide fat blue ties, yellow pants, and red rubber noses, dragging suitcases and deep in conversation. I passed the ice cream store with a line not quite out the door and felt for the money I'd put in my pocket just in case, but kept on going. I passed the middle school where the fireworks will be tomorrow.  By then it was quite dark, and I could hear some neighboring communities had decided to do fireworks tonight instead of on the fourth.

The last stretch of my walk took me down the state highway to the bottom of my street. There are a couple of restaurants and some beer stores there; one of the restaurants just shut down after losing its liquor license for repeated violations. There are plenty of men hanging about there, and it was the least comfortable portion of my trip. My house is just a few blocks from the heart of the immigrant community, and I know there is a camp of men sleeping out in the park along the creek across the highway. Tonight, though, there are many parties up and down my street, people walking around, and I felt embraced by the neighborhood as I turned up the hill to go home.

So good to clear my mind and stretch my legs. Just over four miles, something more than an hour. Probably at least three hundred extra calories. Good for me.