Back when I started what I call my new phase in life, post layoff from a long-term employer, I walked. A lot. Two or three, sometime four miles, five days a week. I took my camera, often I listened to music, on occasion the only thing I listened to was my own brain. Whatever. For the longest time, I felt like I was seeing the world for the first time. I stumbled on so many things I’d never experienced before, inspiring things. Things that helped me to write.
But then, as is so often the case, life got in the way. Bottom line, in the past year, I've barely walked at all.
Until two weeks ago. My employer offered us an opportunity to take part in a twelve week heart healthy class for free, and I signed up. During the first class, we were each given a pedometer, which we are to wear every day. Now, here's the thing. It may be called a pedometer but it's more like a conscience. Knowing I have that thing strapped to me has forced me to be aware of how much (or little) activity I’ve been getting. To that end, I’ve started walking after work. It eats into writing time, but I guess I call that a compromise. I mean, you have to be alive to write, right? The first week, my cumulative count was nineteen miles. As I write this, for the second week, I'm approaching twenty-two. That includes all the walking I do during day. But still. From zero to twenty in under two weeks. That's what I call traction.
And so, during my afternoon perambulations, I’m back to taking pictures, albeit with my cell phone instead of the camera. Not great quality, but the results offer up another reason why walking matters. I get to see cool stuff.