For obvious reasons, my doctors have me walking a lot more than I used to. Walking without a destination is boring, yet
when I actually walk somewhere, everyone yells at me. The other day, I walked to the local mall,
but was too tired to walk home. When I
called The Doc, my wife, for a ride home, for a little while it looked like I
was going to have to live at the mall.
“Are you trying
to die?”, she asked. “Why are you
pushing it?” Actually, it took a while
before she said this, for most of the trip home she wouldn’t talk to me.
Of course I’m
trying to die early. That’s why I have
spent the last ten years eating what I call "the goat puke
diet". If fish and chicken are
honorary vegetables—and I believe they are—then I have been a vegetarian for a
decade. In a desperate attempt to lower
my cholesterol, I no longer can remember what steak or milk taste like. In the end, it didn’t matter, genetics won
out over a diet that was better suited for a compost pile than my digestive system.
So, I’m walking
a lot. Actually, it is only a little,
unless you too have had a bypass. If you
have had one, then you know what it's like to climb Mount Everest--at least if
you laid it on its side. (And flattened
it a little). While it might be strange
for a person who lives in a mountainous state to say this, I currently believe
that hills should be made illegal.
I have learned
the exact location of every bus stop bench within two miles of my house. As far as I can tell, there are far too many
buses and far too few benches. I have
yet to see a bus drive by with more than four passengers, so it is rather
obvious that the town is running a transit system at a huge loss. Naturally, I have a suggestion: For the next month, they should take the
names of all the bus passengers, then sell the buses and just buy those few
riders who actually use the service their own cars. With the balance of the savings, the city
should purchase more benches.
Actually, I have
not yet encountered anyone sitting at one of the benches who was actually
waiting for a bus. The benches are being
used by joggers, by skate boarders, and by a whole gaggle of elderly people who
have been sent out to walk in the hot New Mexico sun. People like me.
Sitting on a
bench alongside a busy street is a surprisingly good place to pass the time
while thinking deep thoughts.
Deep Thoughts. It is also a great
place to wheeze and try to cough up a lung from the exertion of having walked a
whole block.
Evidently, the
economy in southern New Mexico is slowly improving. John D. MacDonald,
the prolific author, once postulated that the best way to gauge the economy of
an area was to plant yourself and observe traffic. Count the number of cars that need body work
or obvious repair. I don’t remember what
a passing score was, but in my decidedly non-scientific experiment, I only saw
one car in need of serious body work, and it belonged to the local police
department.
I’ve also
observed that no one knows what bike lanes are for. My walk was in the middle of the day, so this
may explain why I saw absolutely no one riding a bike. Bike lanes were used by people as a turn
lanes, by the phone company for parking, and by that dented police car's occupant
to give some poor soul a ticket. If you
actually tried to ride a bike in the "Bike Lane", you’d probably get
run over.
Nor would I try
to use any of the marked crosswalks. One
of those is directly in front of my house, and in the thirty years that I have
lived there, I think I have seen someone stop for a pedestrian in it
twice. If someone did actually stop,
most likely it would be to lure someone out so they could run over them. Several of the cars seem named for this kind
of violence: Dodge, Probe, Ram, Diablo,
and Fury. Then again, if car names
indicated how they would be used, the Hummer would have been a lot more
popular.
Why are most of
the people who are out walking "for their health" smoking
cigarettes? And why do they invariably
flick the butts into other people’s front yards? Are they mad at the people who don’t
smoke? I personally think that if you
catch someone flicking a cigarette butt into your yard, you should be allowed
to run over them with your car (but I might be a tad anti-social because of the
lack of oxygen to my brain from walking too far).
By now, you must
be wondering exactly why I have spent so much time sitting on this bench when I
am supposed to be exercising. Shortly
before I decided I needed a long rest, that dented police car stopped in the bicycle
lane and the policeman inside got out to talk to me. He was very nice, very polite, and quite
obviously thought I was very drunk. It
seems that I had not been walking too straight a line down the sidewalk. It didn’t take very long to convince him that
I was just stupid and not drunk, however.
He didn’t offer
me a ride home, unfortunately!
Exactly the advice I've needed to get started on a walking program myself!
ReplyDeleteHaving become a professional pedestrian/user of public transportation, I've found the public transportation system to be long on walking and rather short on transportation. I was going to use my bicycle, but given the steepness of some of the hills in my neighborhood, and the deterioration of my knees, that hasn't worked out so well. So I'm saving for a nice electric bicycle - one that will do 25 mph, needs no insurance, no license and will do 35 miles on a charge (and haul my 270 pounds up a steep hill). I do believe I've moved into another phase of my life and I'm not sure I like it.
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