When the doctor advised that I had to do some form of exercise, I could not think of anything else but walking. Low impact, inexpensive, individual sport. Before the pandemic, I enjoyed walking around my neighborhood and even walking to the nearby malls. It did not bother me that the pavements are uneven or that parked cars encroach on the sidewalk or that Segways and stand-up scooters weave in and out of my path. Now that places are opening up again, I might as well revert to this old habit.
I love walking. It is my time to be with my thoughts. When I walk I can observe people as they move without a care. When I walk I become aware that time does not stand still because nothing stands still. Not even the buildings, whose shadows move along with the sun path. Not even the trees, whose foliage barely shade people from the elements. When I walk I can only focus on the next stride, the next breath, the next muscle twitch. It is useless to think of distance, of heart rates, or of muscle pain... those are too far ahead. Walking is meditative as it is thoughtless.
No one cares that I am walking. People just want to reach their destinations. People are busy looking at their phones. People are more engrossed with their own affairs. People may stare and judge, but they do not care. People will not stop for me and I am not expected to stop for them. There lies the semblance of walking to the reality of life.
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