I was out earlier than usual this morning and stumbled upon some bustling pavement in the neighborhood next to ours. There were runners and bikers and dog-walkers. A couple of joggers looked familiar, like people I knew vaguely from church or the kids’ school. One man I recognized from the pool; he arrives after 8 p.m. and does an exquisitely slow breast stroke.

Seeing these walkers put some pep in my step. They reminded me that, while walking is for the most part an individual activity, it can also be a team sport. Not that we’re keeping score. But in some palpable way these fellow travelers cheered me on.

We’re all in this together, they seemed to say, as they looked up from the pavement with a wry grin or a raised hand or a good morning. Our strides may be slow, our breathing labored, but we know there’s something golden in these still mornings.

Fellow walkers in Lower Manhattan.