From a distance, he looks menacing, spidery and aggressive. Forcefully, he ambulates, using great effort, arms jutting and rotating. Propelled by an acute forward lean and some wild rocking action, he lurches from one block to the next in my neighborhood, seemingly without end. His expression does not welcome pleasantries, let alone suggest tolerance for your adorable dog.
We’ve come to call him “Walking Man,” and he’s a certified hero in my book. I’m willing to bet he’s got a six-pack, plus an enviable heart-recovery rate, under his old flannel shirt. It can’t come easy for him, hauling himself here and there. He’s clearly had issues — physical and maybe emotional, too. Haven’t we all. I’d bet there are no excuses in his toolbox, and no anti-depressants in his medicine cabinet. His risk of heart disease, diabetes, cancer and stroke is lower than for most of us. His muscles are lean and his lungs expansive. All because he walks, and walks, and walks.
It’s the most ancient of exercises and the one for which we are perfectly built. Human dignity depends upon it. Walking plucks the rage from our spirits, and centers our minds. While walking, we’re in commune with nature, our creative selves, and one another. Averting the scary business of talking face-to- face, even my teenage son is willing to open up when walking, and share his most guarded thoughts. It’s nothing short of a miracle.
Let’s celebrate another miracle: the moment Gabrielle Giffords courageously walked into the chamber of the House of Representatives to cast her favorable vote to raise the nation’s debt ceiling. For a few inspired moments, unity prevailed among our lawmakers who’d been cracking heads for months.
Certainly, the bickering resumed the minute Gabby’s standing ovation died down. So, why not send the entire crew out walking, side-by-side? The fresh air would do them good. I recommend the historic Chesapeake and Ohio canal path, not far from the Capitol. They could hop a bus to Georgetown and strike out from there. As Wallace Stevens said, “Perhaps the truth depends upon a walk around the lake.”
We’ll substitute an old canal towpath in this case, and maybe dredge up some true cooperation. Perhaps while slogging along they’ll be reminded of the hard work and collaboration employed during our nation’s infancy. They’ll feel like chumps, I’m sure, and immediately see the error of their ways. Next, they’ll get busy beating their swords into plowshares.
What if they had to divvy up water and snacks, then cram into the campsites together? Maybe it would rain, or there would be an unexpected shortage of gorp. The rules would be that old and young alike had to finish the hike together and not in partisan waves, either. Left-right-left-right. Just one foot in front of the next, please. No elected official left behind.
Could they do it? Would they tolerate one another’s bellyaching and blisters? Who would share his first-aid kit, or offer to shoulder a heavy pack? Who’d refuse to reach across the aisle and fork over the last of the sunscreen? Which leader would trip on an exposed root while glued to his BlackBerry, and have to call for the sag wagon? Who’d be the first to publicly condemn his weakness for doing so?
Some representatives might phone in their portion of the hike, but others might actually chat with a member of the opposing party, about grandkids, or high school pole-vaulting records. Without any effort at all, a Republican might enjoy a chuckle with a Democrat. You know, accidental bipartisan jocularity.
It could happen, because walking is a surprising and useful thing. It’s free and a gift to us all. At the risk of sounding priggish, perhaps our health care system might be alleviated of a percentage of its burden if we got off our collective keisters and pounded the pavement a little every day.
Surely Walking Man has some insight into this matter. I’d wager he has a bit of advice for the so-called “super committee.” If I could catch him, I’d ask.
Julie Savoie (jslivetolaugh@) of Englewood is a homemaker and volunteer.
