Walk Your Blues Away
Kechi and I have started going to the gym again, but one thing that takes getting used to these days is that even when I’m not hitting the gym, I’m staying active. This week, I’ve walked over five miles with Karate three times, with 2.5- and 3.5-mile days interspersed. It’s a relatively modest achievement, but it’s a big deal for someone my size—and then for me, personally.
Before we moved to Baton Rouge in January, Kechi and I lived at the American Can Apartments in New Orleans. They’re in a fantastic location, with grocery stores, pharmacies, pet supply stores and the Lafitte Greenway. I had Karate when I moved in there, and I’d walk him once a day—my roommate Kytara, with whom I got Karate in the first place, would take the early shift, and I’d take the late one.
When my health took a turn for the worse last year, walking the three blocks from my apartment complex to the grocery store became a chore—one that required me to stop for rest more than once. During the very worst of it, Kechi walked with me one day, and I don’t remember how many times I had to stop, but it was several, to be sure.
Once I recovered enough—with the help of blood transfusions and a hospital stay that destroyed my finances, naturally, I began walking farther and farther. A mile, two, three, every day. By the time we moved to Baton Rouge, I was routinely walking between fifteen and twenty miles a week, just in dedicated walks with my dog. At first, I wasn’t sure the walking would do much more than boost my stamina. After all, Karate is a sedate walker. He makes loads of stops, and he almost never walks quickly to begin with. 135 lbs later, it turns out the walks do a lot for me. They help with my health and endurance, they offer me time to think and imagine, and they provide time to listen to music, fiction, and nonfiction for long periods.
Today, Karate and I walked from our house in Spanish Town down to I 10, and then back up, including a stop at the grocery store downtown for odds and ends. The best thing about these walks is that they give me a chance to feel my body. I spent a lot of time in an adversarial relationship with my own physicality. I didn’t like the way I looked, the way my body felt. I always knew that if I was going to improve my health, it would require me to renegotiate my relationship with my body, but every time I thought about it, I had no idea how I would begin to do such a thing. Turns out long walks were just the ticket.
This summer was rocky for me. Kechi spent weeks away, my brother passed, and the novel I’ve been working on was coming far too slowly for my tastes. Summer is usually my favorite season. The heat, the somnolence, the respiration of the city and the greenery all aggregate in what feels like a hot and lively embrace. Even at its most difficult, this summer was better than last, for me, and the Fall is shaping up to be brilliant. More on that later!