February 7, 2019: Walking

Years ago, when I was a reasonably serious, sometimes competitive runner, one of my running mates, Bob Hughes, a Kansas marketing professor, would quip, "For a four-mile run it's not even worth changing out of street clothes." Bob was an incredible runner, way too far ahead of me to be a role model or inspiration, but I did have a pretty good run at running for about ten years. I ran a marathon. I spent a year running 75-80 miles every two weeks. I was pounds and pounds lighter. I could eat a tub of ice cream after a 13-mile run. I ran with packs and I ran alone. In Laramie, Wyoming I ran high into the hills, and Laramie was already at 7200 feet of elevation.

These days, I fancy a good walk. Four miles is my limit and I always change into shorts to walk, even when it hits zero degrees (Fahrenheit). After two total hip replacements, a donated kidney, a torn meniscus repair, a stress fracture, and a repaired bunion, it is close to a small miracle that I can walk as much as I do.

I am good with hills, always was, still am. Short legs help -- low center of gravity. I have been able to find the right shoes to handle my pronation and very flat feet -- where's the arch when I need it?

I've become almost as addicted to walking as I was to running -- forty years later. And with Strava I can measure my distance and times to the hundredth of a mile and the exact minutes and seconds. I don't run in a pack any more. I almost always walk by myself and always for myself. I check my distances, my times, even my elevations. According to Strava, I climbed the equivalent of Mount Everest -- twice!

This past October I attended an anniversary celebration of my Kansas running group, affectionately known as the Mad Dogs (going out in the mid-day sun, etc.). Many of my pals from forty years ago have passed on; I was the kid when I joined the group. And with those remaining, you could not find a nicer, more serene, more congenial group on the planet. I think it's from years of endorphins...

Route for a winter Thursday night -- and fifty degrees