It doesn’t sound like a big deal – but doing it was tremendous.
I WALKED A MILE.!!!
OK, a little about me. I will be 80 next year. I have had back and knee problems since I was in the Navy during the 1970s. Plus my heart was affected by my exposure to Agent Orange while I served off the coast of Vietnam, and now I have a pacemaker/defibrillator.
I love to walk. Where ever I find myself I always find a place to walk. After I retired I volunteered at the Manassas Battlefield National Park. In the nesting season I would go out before dawn and search for quail and for a little bird of the tall grass, Henlow’s Sparrow. I walked miles through fields and forests and along dusty roads. I’d stop and play an audio call for quail coveys or Henslow’s Sparrow and listen for a response.
I enjoyed searching out evidence of the birds’ occupation of park areas, but what I really liked was being outside and walking; walking as far as I wanted. Sometimes in the early morning well before dawn, before listening for the early morning covey calls of the quails at sunrise, I would go out in the night to where I was going to survey. (see Frosty Morning, 18 November 2018). I would carry my folding chair and a thermos of coffee and sit and look up at the night sky.
If I was not surveying birds I would start my mornings with a two mile walk in the city park. Then on weekends I would take a long walk on the trails in Manassas.
Exactly what happened I cannot say, but over the years I developed more and more back and knee problems. This along with my need to rest every quarter mile or so continued to slow me down – and shorten my walks.
My full year walking regimen changed as I had to drop my winter walks in the driving cold and my summer walks in the blistering heat. My year became divided into two walking seasons. There was the spring walking season when the wild pear trees were in bloom, and there was the fall walking season when the persimmons and the pears became ripe and provided a refreshing snack.
Then there was a need for another heart surgery.
When I started walking again I could not walk as well or as far. I used a cane more often. Sometimes it was necessary for my balance and support. Sometimes it was just something to carry in my hand.
During the off-seasons of winter and summer I rode my recumbent bike at home. I discovered new exercises and stretches for my legs. I went to a local gym and used their treadmills. But it was not the same. There was no grass or leaf mold under my feet. There was no sky above. There were no songs of birds or a sudden flutter up from the fields of tall grass.
All of the aches and pains took their toll. My walks fell sharply from two miles or more at the end of a walking season to having to start off with a quarter mile or even less at the start of my next walking season. Sometimes I was just glad to be able to get out of my car and walk to the trail head and back.
Season after season I kept at it. Each season would have its high point. I would find a few persimmons in a tree close to the trail. There would be a ripe pear within reach. There would be a walk through a field of tiny blue butterflies. I would hear and then looking up see a ‘vee’ of Canada Geese – but not the great rats of my childhood – winging south.
In the distance I might hear a quail calling. I might hear the thin voice of a Henslow’s Sparrow. In the fall I might be startled by the rapid flight out of the waving grass followed by another as the sparrows grouped for their migration south.
And finally last week, a day in August with a breeze and clouds called me back to my path through the fields of tall grass and across the battlefields. That day I started my walk with no great plan. I was just glad to have a late and cloudy afternoon in the out of doors.
First I reached my quarter mile marker easily.
Then I reached the sycamore by the trail, the child of witnesses, at my four-tenths of a mile resting point. If I wanted to I could turn back from there and have a good eight-tenths of a mile under my belt.
I looked down the slight slope to what I knew was the half mile point. I felt like pushing for it. I took a step and then another. The clouds and the breeze were in my favor. I could feel how my stretches and daily exercises had prepared me for this moment. As the slope leveled out I reached the small dogwood that marked a half mile.
I paused and looked at the dogwood. Its berries were turning red already, calling small mammals to prepare for the coming winter. I continued along the path until it started to rise. I stopped and looked around, and I said, “This is good.”
I looked back up the slight slope to the young sycamore tree that would be my first rest stop, and I started back.
Soon I was at the trail head and walked back to my car. I checked my Gamin and, YES I had done it – finally, a mile!