Yesterday I went for a walk in the woods nearby. I had a pretty good walking routine through fall and winter but was away for a couple of weeks and then sick for a couple more so I’ve lost all of that good stuff I’d built up. I’ve been slowing my much more fit walking friend down a lot in the couple we’ve done recently. She’s very patient and kind, and never complains when I have to stop and gasp for a minute or two. Maybe three. We live on the side of a mountain so there are ups. Lots of ups. But even though she’s so easy going I can recognize her gait as that of the owner of an old dog. Walking just a little ahead, but with a slow motion quality. Waiting without looking like you’re waiting. I remember doing that as a mom of little ones. I don’t know, am I the old dog or the toddler? (To be clear, I”m fine with either.)
But now that friend is away, riding out some of this odd virus time out of town, and I have resolved to walk, walk, walk on my own and get a little caught up before she gets back. Also, the woods are such a lovely place to be, especially in a little bit scary times.
I did the longer version of my walk, with more hills. I told myself not to worry, of course I’d have to stop a bunch, but boy did I ever! It was the first time ever I decided to sit down for a minute on a rock. Beside me was this big guy,
that started growing about 300 years ago. He’s seen some stuff. I think if I wanted to stretch my arms all the way around him I might need four of me. He watched me huffing and puffing and observed quietly, “Is she supposed to be breathing in so much more air than she breathes out? Is that a thing?” I found enough breath to say, “It’s a thing.”
This guy wasn’t helping either. Y, why indeed?
But after all of those ups there is a lovely bit of downs, between trees and over little streams and slipping on roots and rocks. There are the last bits of leaves on the trail, leaves that I watched fall, turn mushy, and now crumble. I’m not sure why I feel so proud of having been there for that process but I am.
I was so happy to cross paths with this girl.
We didn’t actually cross paths, we met on the same path headed different directions and rather than practicing good social distancing she ran up right between my feet and stopped to wait for the scritch scratch that she knew would be coming. I was especially happy to see her because she is the embodiment of what my daughter and I see as a mountain dog, a cut shape on the mountain across from us that we think looks like a little white dog with a spot on its eye.
We’re a bit light on snow right now so it’s not at it’s best, so I’ve done a little doodle.
See him? Or, as it turns out, her?
So, much to my surprise, that one longer walk has not brought me back to my peak fitness goal so I guess I’ll go again. Now. Maybe I’ll talk to some moss. It’s so star-shaped and happy looking.
