Walking Is Transportation

The Walker, Out of Hibernation At Last

WHEN IT'S MORE LIKE FLYING

That's the critical difference warm(er) weather makes. The distance you bridge on foot, the time you take to get there, the destination itself--all are secondary to the delight you feel as you take to the streets and peel them back, one by one, until you achieve a pace and a rhythm that seem like preparations for lift-off. In the end, you're almost disappointed to get where, after all, you were going.

That's what happened last night. I was off to a dance class, fully prepared to steel myself against the wind and the cold, et voila!: no wind, no cold. Instead, warmer temperatures and a soft breeze whose effects I didn't have to hunker down to ward off. I passed through the same dark and utterly deserted streets as I do every Monday night, but last night the streets weren't bleak and depressing, somehow. In any case, they didn't matter; I was flying.

Today, in intermittent rain, I walked about six miles, some of it fairly hilly, and the experience was the same. Joyous. On this gray, damp day, my walk felt at one point like dance and at another, like flight.

Thickened blood, at last!

Steve Nutt, Ward Hill, Staten Island: Hanukkah menorah, ca. 1995

ACE WAS RIGHT

A week or two ago, when the sudden onset of cold weather made walking seem like more of a chore than a pleasure, I concluded, reluctantly, that I must be a fair-weather walker. Except for walks of necessity, I thought I would probably be seen more indoors than out until next May or so.

But reader Ace Tisnart wrote to assure me that a silk undershirt would help to take the chill off (he was right--got two at Century 21 for $15 apiece; they're amazingly warm for something so light). Ace also said my body needed time to adapt to the temperature change; that my blood needed to thicken.

It seems Ace was right.

Though yesterday morning was cold, windy and snowy, I left the house fortified underneath by my new silk longjohns (got the long underpants, too). After about a block I found myself sailing down the street to my shelving gig, just as I might have months earlier, in warmer weather. Though I was still somewhat steeled against the cold, I felt that familiar ease and effortless speed once again, as though at any moment I might take off and fly.

Was it my newly thickened blood that did the trick? Or was it my new silk undies? What ever got me back on track, my sense of relief was huge. Being able to walk joyfully down the street again felt like a gift. Suddenly, winter seemed a lot less bleak.

Thanks, Ace.

Facing Fact

Uh-oh. It's that walking shoe image again, and you know what that means. (If you don't know what that means, see my post of November 4, 2007.)

EVEN SWEAT-WICKING GARMENTS AREN'T ENOUGH

I'm a fair weather walker. That's the fact I have to face.

I thought this year might be different. That maybe resolve and sweat-wicking polyester garments would make me more willing, even enthusiastic about stepping out of doors.

Well, winter hasn't even officially happened. The weather's been nippy, but hardly bone-chilling. Yet last night, walking the half mile or so between the ETG Book Cafe in Tompkinsville, Staten Island and my house in St. George, I realized how tense my body was. Not even below freezing, and already I'm steeling myself against the wind and the cold.

Call it a seasonal adjustment

The fundamentals haven't changed. I still walk everywhere, except when the time's too short, the distance is too great, or the weather's too bad. I'm what has changed.

In late spring, summer and early fall, I do two types of walks; those of necessity and those of discovery. On longer walks of necessity--the exciting, surprising ones--the distinction melts away and an errand becomes an adventure.

But when the weather gets below 40 degrees, as it's been on and off for the last few days, the prospect of a walk loses nearly all its appeal. Yes, the cold can be invigorating; and yes, trees in a winter landscape have a singular beauty--for somebody else.

No hibernating here

That doesn't mean Walking is Transportation.com is going into hibernation. Instead it'll cover transportation issues more generally--issues like Congestion Pricing, Bus Rapid Transit, Light vs. Heavy Rail.

It may be too early in the process to expect noticeable changes in the culture--as drivers s-l-o-w-l-y begin to realize they have to rethink their choices and their behavior--but I'll be looking for that, too.

I hope you'll stick around.

First Cold-Weather Walk of the Season

Rose window, St. Peter's R.C. Church, St. George, Staten Island

NEXT TIME, LONG JOHNS

I was about to title this entry "First Winter Walk" when I realized I was rushing things a bit.

The calendar aside, winter was certainly the way it felt at dusk today, when an errand gave me reason to be outdoors and walking. It wasn't the deep, bone-chilling cold that can come in late January and early February; but it was cool enough and windy enough to make me wish I'd worn long johns under the pair of mid-weight cotton work pants I had on.

This cold-weather errand-walk, as I'll call it, wasn't typical. Yes, it was a route I knew well. And the walk had a purpose, a destination. But it was also an opportunity to monitor my physical and emotional responses to walking in colder weather. I'd never done that before.

I wish I could say I found an early evening walk in colder weather invigorating, but I didn't. The four-mile walk was familiar, and the weather was no big deal. But I took no pleasure in it, as I would in warmer weather. I just wanted to complete the errand and be back in the old wing chair in my office, where the book of essays I placed there earlier was calling my name.

But one walk does not a season make. The cold-weather monitoring goes on.--

One Correction, One Style Change

The caption for the photo at the top of my post of November 8--"Two trips to the same place"--incorrectly identified the bookstore where the photo was taken. It's the ETG Book Café and Performance Stage in Tompkinsville, Staten Island, not the ETG Book Gallery.

Starting with this post, headlines will appear in the traditional form used in newspapers and other print media, in which the first letter of each word is capitalized. Like This.