A Walker in the Suburbs

The first day was a late one, so this post is late, too. But I’m determined to push “publish” while it’s still light outside.

It’s a cold and cloudy start to 2016, a day that could actually be called wintry after so many warm ones. The sun, still timid, is lost in the clouds. The trees arch bravely over a newly cleared backyard. 

I’ve spent hours reading and writing and thinking about this new year, what it might offer, how I might shape it. And now, I’ll do what I usually do when I’ve thought too much: I’ll lace up my shoes, grab my iPod and take to the streets. A walk — that’s what will make this first day right.

On Friday I had reason to visit Georgetown’s main campus — or, rather, an office building 20 minutes away from it. Though I work at Georgetown’s law school, I seldom visit the rest of the campus, what’s fondly called the Hilltop.

It’s a beautiful spot, perched above the Potomac and set apart from the rest of the city. But it’s not easy to reach by Metro.  My favorite way to go, though most would say the most arduous, is to get off in Virgina at the Roslyn Station, wend my way through downtown Arlington and then stroll across the Key Bridge.

Friday’s weather was brisk. I wore a jacket and scarf. I considered gloves. But none of this mattered once I started across the span. There are the spires of Healy Hall ahead, and beside the campus the narrow, treed lanes of a much older city. Below is the Potomac, and, if you’re lucky, a crew team skimming across it. The bridge is clogged with trucks and cars and bikes. All is movement and brightness and wind.

And once in the District, there is an impossibly steep hill to climb. They don’t call it the Hilltop for nothing. Motion, sunshine, new vistas — my heart was lighter than it had been in days. And all because I walked Key Bridge.

Walking is usually a tonic. It lifts me up and out of myself. But there are limits to its powers, which I discovered yesterday.

I had debated whether to come into the office at all, knowing it would be difficult whether I was home or downtown. Deciding it was better to be distracted, I made the trip in and was, as I had hoped, pulled into the demands of the day.

About 1 p.m. I received a nasty email. Nothing horrible, just an alumnus complaining that his book was omitted from our authors page, the kind of thing that happens occasionally when you deal with large volumes of information. The sort of thing that would usually roll off my back. But yesterday his unkind response put me over the edge.

I tried walking but my Kleenex got a bigger workout than I did. I cut the stroll short, made my way back to office and completed the work day as quickly as I could.

There are walks that inspire and walks that comfort and walks that sometimes must just be endured. There are days like that too. I think I’m in for a few of them.

(Photo: Claire Capehart)

Walking is often a way for me to handle hard times by absorbing myself in activity, observation and rumination. Everything from real trials to an ordinary bad day can be smoothed and put in perspective by stretching the legs — and the imagination.

But what if time constraints take that walking time away? That’s what’s been happening recently. And, as is so often the case, the walking time is waning at the very time I need it most.

There’s only one thing to do, and that’s to pound the pavement as if my life depends upon it. Because, in a very real way, it does.