You didn’t know I was going to do 28 days of walking, did you? Neither did I, until I found myself walking out the door about a half hour ago, and then found myself trying to pull everything together that seems so wispy and scattered in my mind, and then found myself counting the number of baby (or teenage?) groundhogs (at least 10, but some ran before I could count them), and then noticing the clouds that looked like a Turner painting, and the greens and the flowers of orange-yellow-pink-purple, and red-winged blackbirds against tall grasses, and my feet just moving ahead, and into my mind came the thought: “Twenty-Eight Days of Walking.”
“Why twenty-eight?” I asked myself.
Because I like the number 28. Because it’s a good combination of 4 weeks times 7 days, and I like those numbers too. Because “One Month” sounds more daunting, somehow. Because back when I was 28, I began what I’ve come to think of as a new chapter in my life, and I feel like that chapter has been wrapping up over the last year, half-way to 28 x 2. Because it’s the number that popped into my head, and I’ve learned to trust those things that pop into my head and feel “right” somehow.
So today’s walk included the aforementioned groundhogs overwhelming the path in the field I walked, all looking a little surprised to see me on their turf, one scampering away when I walked within 20 feet, then coming out as I stood still, then scampering away again when I twitched my hand.
Today’s walk included an idea for a project: Top Commenters, and their stories. I’ll write more about that later.
Today’s walk included glancing at gardens upon gardens – so many ideas, so many vegetables in this lush neighborhood, so many colors and textures and kale and peas and tomatoes and hostas and tiger lillies. Today’s walk included a stop at a sprinkler sprinkling a garden, and taking a few of those cool refreshing sprinkles for my hot arms and face.
Today’s walk included remembering that it feels really good to just move sometimes, and that often that movement builds on itself in a pretty natural way – slowly, working out the kinks, and then getting easier and easier. This appears to be true with walking, running, swimming, dancing, and anything else that within the first few minutes of doing I want to stop because I’m so tired and it’s too muggy or too cold or too windy or whatever, and then my body starts making things easier the longer I continue.
Today’s walk included wondering when I would hear some news I’ve been waiting for, a good way to fill the time as I waited, and a text that came in just moments after I walked back in the door.
Day One of Twenty Eight: Check.