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The Shutdown Walk

The Shutdown Walk

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It’s hard to live in our nation’s capital without drinking our nation’s Kool-Aid. And right now, the flavor is shutdown. The will-it-happen, won’t-it-happen discussion has given way to talk of how it will happen. Shutting down the government is not unlike steering a huge ocean liner. One doesn’t start or stop quickly.

Since there’s one government employee and one dependent-on-government employee in this house — to say nothing of a government-employee daughter a few miles away — this matters in an immediate way.

During the last shutdown, in 2013, Congress authorized back pay for furloughed workers. We might not be as lucky this time. In addition to lapsed income, there’s also the uncertainty of the situation, the disruption.

Time for some perspective, which for me means … a stroll. I’m calling it the Shutdown Walk.

Frozen Solid

Frozen Solid

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Footfall thunderous, thudding. No give in the ground. Crunching through frozen mud and thin white ice that begs to be broken.

This is what I’ve been walking on this winter when I venture off road to stroll on trail or berm. It’s a strange sensation, expecting give where you don’t find it.

Not unlike returning to a scenic spot of once-great beauty to find it befouled with new houses and fences.

The ground I knew — soft, fragrant, pliable — has become another rough element, something that doesn’t move with me but against me. It’s ground that may as well be … pavement.

TC in the Suburbs

TC in the Suburbs

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Late-day walk with Copper, who was begging, pleading with his big brown eyes, not letting me out of his sight. OK, little guy. And so … we were on.

I knew we’d have a fun time of it when I saw a neighbor and her dog (with whom Copper has scrapped more than once) sauntering down to the bus stop. We’d inadvertently timed our stroll with the Folkstone rush hour: 15 minutes of nonstop bus and car traffic back from Crossfield School.

I hadn’t even reached Fox Mill Road before the first text came. That required I remove my gloves and send a return text, followed by a return email. While I was doing this, a sweet-faced boy of 7 or 8 approached us. Copper lunged at him before I realized what was happening. “He bites,” I said to the child, whose expression was suddenly frozen in horror. “I’m sorry, but you don’t want to pet him.”

We finally reached the halfway point, then turned toward home. On the way back, I received a call, a voice mail and another email.

Total elapsed time: 25 minutes.

This is what happens when walking in the suburbs meets telecommuting in the suburbs. Not exactly a walk in the park … but better than the alternative.

(Copper in his autumn bandana. That’s two Copper pix in one week. No more for a while!)

New Walk in Town

New Walk in Town

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Yesterday after work I jumped off the bus at Rosslyn, as I always do, but instead of transferring to Metro, I walked up Clarendon Boulevard, past Court House Metro on to Fairfax Boulevard and all the way to Ballston.

It was getting dark, lights coming on, the Christmas decorations still up in some stores and windows. There were dogs and their owners, children and their parents, millennials and their yoga mats.

This is a new route for me, many uphill stretches and some unknown areas that had me a bit turned around last night. But it’s a route I look forward to learning as the days lengthen. It’s the new walk in town.


(Pictures of another sunset walk; the new walk in town is not yet photographed!)

Auto Pilot

Auto Pilot

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It’s below freezing here with a sky that means business (snow business). Birds flit from feeder to roost, keeping warm, I imagine. That’s what I’d do if I were a bird.

Instead, I sit in a warm room observing my feathered friends, trying to work up the enthusiasm for a morning walk. Will the temperature rise past 32? That might trigger some movement on my part. Otherwise, I may have to sit a while longer, have another cup of tea.
Absent from the blogosphere for two days, I notice that the entry I thought I’d posted on Christmas Eve never published. Because I scheduled it for December 24, though, its time stamp makes it appear as if I published it on that day.
It’s a vote against auto-pilot … but a vote in favor of time travel. About which more will be said … in the future. 
Mind Walking

Mind Walking

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For the last two days, my walks have consisted only of trips from the house to the car, the car to the Metro platform, the Metro platform to the bus stop, the bus stop to the office, the office to the bus stop, the bus stop to the Metro platform, and, well … you get the picture.

It’s a picture of a walk-starved person, someone who draws strength from movement but who isn’t moving much these days. 
This will be remedied soon. In the meantime, I’m letting my mind do the walking. It’s taking me down a white sand beach in Florida, along a slick brick sidewalk in Bangladesh and through a canopy of trees in a woods near my house.
Ahhhh …. I’m feeling better already. 
Alone and Together

Alone and Together

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Yesterday’s walk took us to Long Bridge park, where we could see the Washington Monument, planes taking off and landing, a red helicopter whirring toward the river, and a freight train lumbering along the tracks. We paused for a group shot, our fine and motley crew, then strolled back chattering about our work, our lives, our plans for the future.

A far different stroll happened last night. I left the H Street Country Club a few minutes before 8 and walked the 10 blocks to Union Station by myself. The H Street corridor has the grittiness of the newly gentrified neighborhood. Start-up boutiques, dark side streets, coffee shops with attitude, and panhandlers aplenty. It also has … a streetcar, though I didn’t see one heading west until I was almost at Union Station.

It was past 8:30 when I caught the first of two Metros, close to 10 when I got home. The walk made the day a little longer, but I’m so glad I took it. I needed to process Day One and prepare for Day Two. Walking: it’s good together … but it’s better alone.

Houston Delivers

Houston Delivers

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To riff for a moment on a city defined by a sentence amplified by a movie— “Houston, we have a problem” — let me just say Houston had far fewer problems than I expected to see.

While there was evidence of Hurricane Harvey — a boarded-up motel and piles of refuse in neighborhoods (the latter viewed by other wedding-goers, not me) — the city, on the whole, glittered and gleamed.

From the Johnson Space Center to the funky soul food breakfast joint my sister-in-law found to a host of museums on everything from medicine to bicycles — Houston delivered.

The best part was walking through the parks, past fountains and waving pink grasses and through the studied stillness of the Japanese garden. Dogs and families, girls in ballgowns for their quinceaneras, even a tightrope-walker — everyone out to savor the cool breeze and sparkling low-humidity day.

Walking and Living

Walking and Living

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As if yesterday’s post wasn’t enough of a paean to walking … here’s this, which I noticed in a day-old copy of the newspaper: “Regular walking may increase longevity, even if you walk less than the recommended amount.”

I hope I walk more than the recommended amount — but even if I didn’t these words would be heartening. The new study analyzed information from nearly 140,000 adults ages 60 and up, people who were followed for 13 years. Even those who didn’t walk the recommended two and a half hours a week still lived longer than the ones who didn’t walk at all.

Apparently, though many studies look at exercise and longevity, not that many specifically examine walking. So although this seems like a no-brainer … it isn’t. And there’s more: Those who walk from two and a half to five hours a week were 20 percent less likely to die of any cause and 30 percent less likely to die of a respiratory ailment. Which raises a question: Could those who walk 10 or more hours a week become … immortal?

I’m getting a bit carried away here, but one thing is certain. Walking doesn’t just clear the mind and inspire the spirit … it actually keeps us going longer. I can live with that!

Pep Walk

Pep Walk

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I love the pep talk, whether getting or giving. Those first minutes and hours afterward, lifted on a thin layer of inspiration that I know won’t last but feels permanent at the time, a high born of words and gestures, of understandings suddenly grasped.

But when there’s no one around for a pep talk, a pep walk will do.

A pep walk begins in desolation. The article you’re writing has no focus, the words are cliches. The work load is too heavy, no one can juggle this many projects. The child you raised is having troubles; she’s an adult now but when she hurts, you do too.

The reasons are legion, but the remedy is the same. Lace up the shoes, grab the earbuds, step outside. It’s a whole new world out there. Other people and their problems. Maybe the problems get all jumbled together and cancel each other out. Or maybe it’s just the act of walking, one foot then the other. Forward motion, with all that that implies.

All I know is, the pep walk works. It bolsters spirits, reveals solutions. It inspires.