We drove north, into the pines of northern Arizona, leaving behind the relentless heat of central Arizona.
Mike and I were able to do some easy walking with friends in Sedona and Oak Creek Canyon as well as Flagstaff. Here is a test: if you think you are fit, take a walk at an elevation 6000 feet higher.
Here is a trick: when you are out of breath, claim that you are stopping for a photo op. And blame any panting on the altitude.
I do not claim to be in great shape; read my blogs. But I can walk a mile or two easily and do some hiking with trekking poles and occasional help from my husband.
So it is always a surprise when I become breathless during a walk downtown Flagstaff.
My friends, unaccustomed to the altitude change, were breathing heavily.
Always blame it on the altitude, I advised. It is so much better than, “I am really out of shape!”
Betty picked up on it right away.
Over the next few days, we never did become acclimated to the altitude.
I want to walk to meander and dream, to work off frustration and despair of daily news, to connect with the divine. I need to walk, to calm the restlessness of retirement.
The theory here is that walking allows the brain to focus on something it already knows how to do, which gives the rest of your mind free rein to wander. Which is all to say that if you are stuck in the middle of writing a book or trying to figure out your life, perhaps the best thing you can do is walk.
…especially when frustrated or simply between tasks. I am not surprised that creative meandering springs from neuronal firings (see quote above).
The temperature has dropped to double digits, but the air retains the oppressive heat of the summer desert. I am not walking outdoors in this heat. Nor am I rising at 4 am to join my family and friends committed to their routine while avoiding the worst of the day. At one time a morning person, I have come to appreciate my late risings while retired. Late meaning 8 a.m.
I joined a few friends virtually to follow a Leslie Sansone Walk at Home video. Caveat: get out the towel; you will sweat. But that is not walking outside, rambling in nature, where the brain keeps the legs moving while allowing the mind to wander.
Although our current neighborhood…
…is similar to the community we left seven years ago, I find this one less satisfying for walking. It might be more a reflection of my life situation than the setting itself.
The neighborhoods of the north side of Chicago are made for walking, streets lined with trees and gardens, shops offering interesting products and enticing window displays. Surroundings definitely affect the mood of the walk.
It was close to two years…
…following hip replacement that I achieved a level of walking that allowed me to let my mind wander. A few months later, a torn meniscus aggravated by arthritis forced a partial knee replacement, throwing me back into a conscientious gait. Now, one year later, I can feel my body ready to wander in body and mind.
But it is hot!!!
My tolerance for the heat has diminished with age and retirement. When working in AC all day, a few hours of heat in the evening were bearable, relieved by a dip in the pool. The freedom to go out at any hour, although a benefit of retirement, accentuates the unforgiving temperatures, urging me to stay inside.
I want to walk…
…to meander and dream, to work off frustration and despair of daily news, to connect with the divine. I need to walk, to calm the restlessness of retirement.
ach time I do even the smallest activity, though, I marvel at the benefits, and file the experience in my memory to motivate me tomorrow. That and meeting friends for coffee may be enough to get me going.
After a rather sedate weekend, I got myself out of the house this morning for a 1.5 mile walk in the central Phoenix neighborhood where I am lying low at my nephew’s guest house. I call it my she-shed.
The temperature was tolerable for a change, and the humidity did not tax me until the 1.2 mile mark. After cooling down upon my return, I joined Adriene for a few minutes of gentle yoga. The sweat oiling the floor prompted me to cut the session short.
Ready to roll
A good night’s sleep and light morning exercise set the tone for the day. I completed a couple of tedious tasks which I had been avoiding and am now making plans for the rest of the day.
Natural medicine
Physical activity is truly natural medicine, strengthening the body and freeing the mind. The year of COVID with gyms closed and isolation from our support groups forced us to find new ways to move. Now, the summer weather in the southwest makes a casual walk ill-advised. Exercise requires intention and planning.
Tomorrow?
Each time I do even the smallest activity, though, I marvel at the benefits, and file the experience in my memory to motivate me tomorrow. That and meeting friends for coffee may be enough to get me going.
My cup of coffee yielded over 2800 steps, caffeine, companionship, and respite. I will miss this.
Time for coffee
It’s 10:15 am as I sit down to write in SD’s Chicago condo . A cup of coffee would be nice.
SD’s apartment is furnished with highly placed cupboards and shelves, which works for her and MBP, who is 5’11”. Not so good for me at 5’2”. I use a pair of long tongs to access many items, including the coffee.
The alternative to making coffee is walking to the coffee shop. I should say “a” coffee shop because there is a plethora of choices in the neighborhood. (“Plethora” is one of my favorite words.)
Let’s take a walk
I don’t keep track of my daily steps, but when in Chicago, it is fun to check them occasionally where recording over 10,000 steps is not unusual.
Walking to the coffee shop in the suburbs is often unpleasant on streets designed for motor vehicles, not pedestrians. Walking in SD’s north side neighborhood takes one through lush gardens, remarkable architecture, and interesting people and dogs.
Tomorrow I fly home to Phoenix where walking after 8 am is quite unpleasant, if not intolerable. On this cool summer Midwest morning, SD joins me for a walk. Sipping our drinks, we enjoy time chatting and people/dog watching before strolling home.
The hidden benefits
My cup of coffee yielded over 2800 steps, caffeine, companionship, and respite. I will miss this.
I wish I were as fat as I was when I first thought I was fat is an oft-heard mantra. Well, I also wish I were as strong and agile as I was when I first thought I was weak and clumsy.
My mind is distracted, working out plans for our upcoming road trip. Without thinking, I lift one foot to burrow my leg into the pajama pants, followed by the second leg.
Wow! I stand amazed. I didn’t fall over!
It has been well over a year since I could do a seemingly simple task, one which I had always taken for granted until I could no longer do it. Today’s mark of improvement gave me a much needed burst of positivity.
Listen
Oh, young people. Be aware of the amazing feats your body performs and enjoy the ease with which it moves. Walking down the street the other day, I noted the strength in my muscles and the coordination of hips/knees/ankles. It was so marvelous that I was almost giddy.
Wow! Look at that!
I wish I were as fat as I was when I first thought I was fat is an oft-heard mantra. Well, I also wish I were as strong and agile as I was when I first thought I was weak and clumsy.
I have always enjoyed walking: long strolls through the neighborhood or hikes on a wooded path. One of the highlights of visiting our kids in Chicago is the opportunity for walking. Avoiding inconvenient parking and expensive fees, we often walk or take public transportation. It isn’t unusual to get 20,000 steps in a day.
Mike and I have been in Chicago for the last few days to participate in some much-loved holiday traditions, notably the Do-it-Yourself Messiah. This time we added the Old Town School of Folk Music Songs of Good Cheer. In addition there was walking through the local neighborhood for lights and dinner, a visit to State Street for shopping and sights, our daughter’s annual Christmas movie trivia party, and a couple of jaunts to the burbs to see friends.
Enhancing our step count total, we must tackle three flights of steps to enter our daughter’s condo, plus multiple flights to catch trains. My new knee problem has presented a challenge to getting around in a city. The usually pleasant walk from the train through Millennium Park to my son and daughter-in-law’s condo was transformed into a painful trek. While previous visits helped me develop strength, this time, I am just getting tired.
Arriving in the cold of Chicago after sitting on a plane for four hours, I was greeted with a stiff, painful knee. I take stairs one at a time, remembering to lead with the right foot going up and left going down. I am aware that I am throwing off my gait which may lead to other problems. The decreased weakness and resulting loss of balance make me conscious of the many stairs in this city that don’t offer banisters.
In the warmth of Arizona with a semi-regular exercise regime, I cancelled the impending doctor’s appointment when my knee seemed to improve. This trip convinces me that I need to consult the doctor no matter how good it feels at home.
I am reminded of the old relatives who complained about their “rheumatism”. There always seems to be body part available to fall apart. A friend once confided that she awoke every day thinking, “What body part today?” Another friend recently shared that she thinks her warranty has run out: everything is failing. Maybe not severely, but enough to slow us down and take some of the joy out of movement. And that is what frustrates me the most: my spirit says move but my body says, “Really?”
