Walking

Most nights I go for a walk before bed. Around 4 miles or so. It started out of need a couple of years ago as a way of loosening up my injured back before bed. I usually head out around 10:00pm, after everyone else is well in bed, and fast asleep. I take off for my regular route, sometimes with my digital music player providing background music or an audio book. Most times not. If the weather is bad, I have ways to cut it short, and if its just one of those perfect nights, ways to extend it. I've walked my route enough now that my mind and body instinctively know the way and the pitfalls. These include which areas are full of sidewalk cracks deep enough to snap my ankle, which homes leave their garbage right in the middle of the sidewalk instead of off to the side so that I could possibly snap my ankle, and which houses have dogs that like to bark with a tone that suggests they would like to come and bite me hard enough to snap my ankle. I don't even have to think about the walk anymore. My body just goes. So, my mind is free to go where it wants.

Usually the format it ("it"being my mind) follows is to take the northbound part of the trip as the time to debrief the days events. This more often than not explores the low lights of the day in greater depth and detail than the high lights, unfortunately. At times I find myself having a running conversation with myself, defending certain actions or people, and at the same time prosecuting certain actions or people. Usually by the time I head west, I've had enough of that train of thought.

The turn west is usually where I begin to notice that I'm on a walk. I check out the stars, the weather, homes that look good enough to spend a lifetime living in. I think of my turn west as my deep breath after rehashing my day.

Once I turn back to the south, I usually begin a time, which can only be called dialogue prayer. Its the time during my walk when I seem most sensitive to the things in my life for which I am most grateful. My family. My remarkable wife. The church I have the privilege of serving. My great and beautiful God. Mirroring my thoughts is my route. It is the darkest and quietest (and longest) part of my journey each night. It refreshes me.

By the time I turn east, I'm back into my "doing" mode, as I think about what needs to be done for the day ahead. Often times this comes out of my prayer time, as I envision ways to better respond to the blessings in my life. Rather than this causing me stress and anxiety, it is almost always uplifting.

The way my route takes me, I must turn north again to return home. I usually think about how different it feels from an hour earlier. My stress of the day has been released. There's nothing left to moan and groan about. I've had time with God. My body feels worked. I'm ready for home, and bed, and the new day to come.

And to think I complained a few years ago when I initially hurt my back.