Before I was a walker I was a runner, and there are times when I still think of myself as one. My knees won’t let me jog far, but when I’m cold or bored or running late, I still break into a trot.

I did this today on the way to the office. It’s not very dignified, but it provides a moment of release, similar to the feel of a horse as it moves from a trot to a canter. The motion then becomes silken and sleek, horizontal rather than vertical and, yes, more fun.

So while I told myself today that I should walk not run, I did just the opposite. I moved through space as quickly as I could. Sometimes it’s the only way.