When I lived in Missoula, I loved taking walks. I lived three blocks from work and school and would walk or ride my bike a majority of the time–I only had to fill my gas tank every other month, I walked so much. Most of all, I loved strolling up and down the Clark Fork River and riding my bike around campus during the warmer months.
After moving from Missoula to Portland, I got my walking fix daily while delivering mail for the post office. I felt better after walking, mentally as well as physically. I believe you really don’t know a neighborhood or truly become a part of it unless you walk its streets on a regular basis. I think that’s one of the reasons people have a certain attachment to their hometown–as kids, most of us are forced to walk everywhere and often. Traveling by foot has made me feel a strong sense of ‘home’ in both Missoula and Portland, as well as in the town I lived in during my formative years.
Sadly, I haven’t done much walking in recent years because of my health, and my dusty bike leans against the wall of my dining area with two flat tires. I’ve been sleeping twelve hours a day as of late, but I couldn’t resist taking advantage of this weekend’s awesome weather. UVA and UVB rays aggravate my lupus, so I made sure to spray myself down with 70 SPF sunscreen before I left the house. On Saturday, I broke out my old lady shopping cart and my canvas shopping bags and walked to the store for groceries. On Sunday, I walked to a nearby blue collection box and dropped off some outgoing mail, just as an excuse to get out.
Although I only walked about a mile on both days, it was relaxing and I was happy the weather and my legs allowed it to happen. It’s the simple shit like this that makes me feel–for a moment–less angry, less frustrated, and just a little bit closer to being okay.
