I walked to work today. I didn’t have a photographer on hand to capture my feet, no. But those are my feet. Snapped on another, not so long ago, day.
The distance to work from my apartment – door to door – down the exact streets I traveled is 2.895 miles. I know this because I plotted the course here. Such a cool site!
Knowing the distance, I approximated that it would take me about 45 minutes. I set my timer when I left home. It was a lovely morning for a walk.
I passed by a school playground at recess and saw lots of short people with high pitched voices tossing balls around and running in circles.
I passed by the Unitarian church where we had the memorial for our friend, Jim, years ago.
I passed by a senior citizens’ home where a man in a wheelchair and a wide brimmed sun hat gave me a giant smile and an enthusiastic, “Good morning.”
I passed another man with long white hair dressed in orange robes and flip flops. He stopped to tell a gardener something and shook his finger in the gardener’s face. I don’t know what he was saying because the gardener’s lawnmower made too much noise. The gardener didn’t frown behind Orange Robe’s back, so perhaps there wasn’t a conflict after all.
I passed two tiny dogs chasing each other – tangling their leashes.
I passed a man wearing a tractiony metal brace – a screw crown looking sort of thing – around his head walking with a cane outside of the hospital. He looked strong all the way to the first street sign, where he grabbed on and rested.
I passed a really nice looking funeral home where I wondered if I think about death more than I think about sex. I got to see the DHL driver bring two boxes to the funeral director’s office. Mail order Formaldehyde?
I passed an old priest walking east to my west. He had a king sized half eaten Hershey’s chocolate bar in his hand and was about ready to take another bite when I smiled at him.
I passed the beyond-natty dread haired homeless man who is always on the corner of Wilshire and Lincoln. He had a companion with him today whose delusional cardboard sign misspelled either “faggots” or “fascists”; I passed before I could read the whole note.
I passed by the cupcake shoppe.
By the time I got work, my timer said 44:28. Go figure. I would have had a decent pace if it weren’t for all the dastardly stop lights!
All I could think when it came time to stop moving my feet was, I want to keep going – I’ve just gotten started.