Simplicity That Just
Might Bring a Sense of Well-being
Monday
afternoon was cold and bleak. I
decided to take a long brisk walk; I’d miss my daily walks for maybe the 10th
time in a row, so I was determined to make this walk count. Swaddled in my windproof gear, I felt tired and heavy and cold and even
the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other demanded an effort,
but I walked on.
Though
I’d left without a destination in mind, I turned toward town. There is only one way to get to downtown
Manteo and that street was busier than usual. I pulled my hat
way down on my head obscuring some of my vision but I could still hear my
ragged breathing and the howling wind.
I
was in a rut. Maybe it was the
winter weather, or the hours of being inside, or the medical issues I am
struggling with, or the way my grey corduroys felt so damn tight around my
waist when I put them on this morning.
It
was Monday afternoon. That morning
I had read another very sad report in the NYT about the children killed in that
horrific shooting in Newtown, Connecticut. Thirty years ago I lived in Connecticut. I felt a grief that was at once distant
and personal and exhausting.
Almost
in town, I was wearing out. The walk isn’t difficult – the path is
straight and flat but I hadn’t REALLY exercised since I started the chronic
coughing and breathing
difficulties and the town is 2.5 miles away so even if I didn’t have breathing
problems and wasn’t tired, and in a bit of a funk, at the pace I was moving, my
breathing would still be ragged.
It turns out, however, that this exercise felt bad and good all at
once. I felt like a haze was
lifting and there was something like a smile inside.
When
we lived in Erie, I belonged to a health club and did spin 3,4, sometimes 5
times a week. I worked out with a
trainer 3 times a week. Exercising
helped me claw out of every rut I have experienced in the past 30 years. The rhythm of peddling on the bike
helped me think straight. The
camaraderie of the group anchored me.
I found balance and community and peace and purpose and self-confidence
on the spin bike. I was able to
stay in the saddle for as much of the class as I wanted but there were times
when the music was so loud and the instructor would shout to crank it up that I
would have to stand and push through the cycle. The gym was no place to worry about appearances. Sweat rolled down my body and puddled
on the floor.
That
Monday afternoon walk was turning out to be relaxing. I decided to walk beyond downtown and followed the path out of
town for about another half mile.
When I did turn around I noticed I had the wind at my back. It was around 4 pm and there was clarity
to the light that you only see on cold winter days. (It was common in New England but not here.) Nothing was different but I felt a
change. I was ready for my brisk
walk home; I pushed my hat back on my head so I could see and I knew I would
enjoy the scenery.
