The Lost Art of Walking

“Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time.” -- Stephen Wright

I went for a walk at work today.

It was one of those days where I found myself just staring at my computer screen for 15 minutes. I couldn't quite bring myself to write another reading comprehension question about Lupe's dog Pipiolo for the elementary reading assessments I was working on, and it's unseasonably warm in Baltimore this week, so I put my jacket on and went to walk around the building.

It wasn't a long walk -- 15 minutes around the block, but it was nice. Fresh air, warm sun, the absence of the glare of fluorescent lights and computer screens.

You notice things when you walk--things you don't notice when you're running, or biking, or driving. You're forced to move at this leisurely pace and there's nothing much to do except look around. So, I noticed this stain glass window shop that I never knew was right across the light rail tracks. And I found these houses with this very strange stone exterior finish. I passed a few people, and since I was in Hampden, hon, they were some characters. I passed by a local convenience store which seemed oddly out of place in a mainly residential area. I saw a corner bar with a very ornate logo and sign, but that had windows tinted so dark that I couldn't catch of glimpse of what was inside.

I used to walk more.

When I was a child, all the time. I remember going out almost every night after dinner with my parents to walk around the block. I walked to get to my friend's houses around the block. I walked to the elementary school up the street to play on the playground.

I remember walking at my grandmother's house ... "only down to the stop sign." I remember walking on the beach, down the stretch of sand until the point loomed and the sand ended.

College lends itself to walking -- to class, to your friend's dorm, across the Quad. I used to love walking around Loyola. Nine times out of ten I saw someone I knew and stopped to have a conversation. And then there were those times -- usually early in the morning on the weekends -- when the Quad would be deserted, and as I walked I would just look at all the buildings.

When I didn't have a car for a week a few weeks ago, I had to walk a lot then, too. I walked to the light rail stop, I walked to the grocery store. I walked to the gym.

Sure, it takes more time. And no, it's not as convenient as a car.

But walking, I think has become a lost art. Sometimes you should just leave your office at 2 p.m. and take one. Remind yourself that sometimes it's better to stroll through life than to motor through it.