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It’s 11:03 PM and if I have to estimate, it’s about 22 degrees Fahrenheit outside.
I step into my indestructible 4 year-old flip-flops, socks still on. You know the next required move; wiggle the feet while at the same time pushing with a decent amount of force so the single flip flop strap moves and ultimately rests comfortably between the big toe and the toe just to the right and to the left of the big guy. I don’t think that toe has an official name.
I place my Oakland Raiders winter hat, pom-pom and all, atop my sizable head.
I pull my hoodie’s hood over the hat for the ultimate in cold and wind protection.
I hook the leash onto the dog’s collar before putting on my gloves. If I put the gloves on first it’s impossible to grasp the hook thingy on the leash and the dog gets very impatient. She leaps at the door knob as if to say, “What the fuck would you do, human, if someone blocked you for like a minute and a half right when your need to urinate was at its peak?”
I open the front door, allow myself to be temporarily blinded by the projected-on-to-the-house Christmas lights from the front lawn, grab a railing anticipating the dog pulling me with angry fervor, and slowly descend the front steps.
Yes we are cheating by using THOSE lights rather than going through the age old ritual of taking hours to painfully hang lights on the gutters or the railings or the shrubbery knowing that the final results will never meet expectations.
I don’t care and neither do the kids. That’s a win-win.
While the dog pees, I scan my surroundings for ne’er-do-wells. We live in the middle of nowhere without street lights and everyone else who lives on the street is asleep in their comfy beds with their comfy comforters and duvet covers.
It’s just me and the elements and I need to know what I’m up against. If I sense a coyote or hobo is present, we will quickly turn around and head back inside to safety and warmth.
On this night all appears OK, so we proceed with our walk.
Oh how I cherish these walks.
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I kill for those long late night walks with the dog. While they started as an obvious means to get the dog outside and to get her exercise, I think they now benefit me more than her.
And it’s not really about the exercise for me. I am a runner (ahem) and manage to fit in a few runs per week. These walks just supplement the exercise I’m already getting.
OK that’s not totally true. I’m a Fitbit fanatic, and have been tracking my every step for three years now. I have no choice but to get 11,000 steps per day. That is the minimum or the accepted floor. The ceiling sits around 16,000. I take every possible long-cut to up my step totals.
I park in the far right back of the parking lot at work and then walk to the left front to enter the building. That’s a horrible description on my part but you get the point.
I abhor elevators.
I volunteer at home to get anything that is either in the basement or in the attic or in the car outside.
I walk in circles when I’m bored.
The walk with the dog results in anywhere from 1,500 to 2,000 steps. I factor that into my projected steps total at the beginning of each day.
So my bad, I take the walk for the exercise as well.
But more than that, nothing aids in clearing the mind, promoting creative thinking and reducing anxiety like a simple freaking walk.
I can easily talk myself off of panic highway with one of those late night walks.
I would estimate that 75% of the stories and blog posts I’ve written this year, were the result of an idea coming to mind while walking the hallways at work.
I physically can’t maintain a high anxiety level while moving.
My wife and I have made many important adult decisions while walking.
Why did it take so long to discover this? I don’t know. Don’t punch me, but I always considered a walk to just be a slower run. Why wouldn’t I just push myself to run where the benefits would be exponentially increased from just walking? I’m still young enough to NOT be one of those people who walk every night for their exercise.
But you know what you can’t do when running? Think.
You know what else you can’t do while running? Enjoy the moment.
I’ve never had a creative thought while running. But I have had one post-run, while walking back into the house.
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I’m now addicted to walking.
I expect a new and brilliant idea after every walk. If I could ever figure out a way to write while walking, well the sky would be the limit. I would blow your mind with my while-walking-words.
There are three distinct “walks” that are part of my repertoire most days. Each requires a different skill set. Each has its own quirks to contend with. Each carries different benefits and each is crucial to my spiritual and creative awakening.
The walk at work
Biggest benefit: Walk off work-induced stress within minutes. Put that god awful conference call in the rear view.
Biggest drawback: Coworkers observing you walking without an apparent destination. Being branded as that weirdo. Walking with fancy shoes on can hurt after a while.
Go-to move: Never walk the same path twice. Pretend to be seeking a conference room or a trip to the bathroom or cafeteria. NEVER glance at the Fitbit device on the wrist.
The walk with my wife
Biggest benefit: Spouse bonding. Escape from the kids. Adulting. Life’s toughest choices and decisions are made easier while in motion and slightly out of breath.
Biggest drawback: Returning to reality post-walk.
Go-to move: A location with as few people as possible and with as few distractions as possible so conversation can be locked in without distraction. Don’t try and grab your wife’s hand while walking. That is apparently very lame.
The late night walk with the dog
Biggest benefit: The dog gets outside. The human gets outside. The danger of being attacked by a rabid raccoon or the stray bullet from a local hunter is invigorating. I value the glance back at the house where all the people I care most about are safe and secure inside.
Biggest drawback: The cold. The heat. The coyotes. The in-between-the-toes blisters from insisting on wearing flip-flops out of sheer laziness.
Go-to move: Three loops covering our street and the one running perpendicular to our street. Desperately being dragged by your unusually strong 25-lb mutt who chases every blowing leaf like it’s a scurrying mouse.
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Photo Credit: Getty Images