I love to walk. My mom says I started early and once I did there was no stopping me. We lived in a large colony in Bombay up to my 6th year and search parties were on the look out for me every single day, following my long disappearances. I made friends easily and therefore invited myself into my mother's friend's homes when I needed to rest from my wanderings. Those were innocent times and luck was on my side in that we lived in a locale where people looked out for each other. However, this was no small colony and my mother's panic must have known no bounds especially after I was once found stuck between 2 floors in one of those cage elevators when a cruel young kid had pulled the door shut with me in it and someone from upstairs had pressed the button. Anyway all this notoriety resulted in my being nicknamed Odukaali (wandering legs).
The fact is I simply loved to walk. I must have inherited the gene from my father who walked everyday, rain or shine, from before I was born. As a teenager I joined him on weekends and school holidays. He loved having mom or us kids as walking buddies and regaled us with interesting stories about ordinary people and I lapped it all up, especially the one about how my future husband would be the best match for me! I tried to keep up my walking after coming to Canada. However, with the demands of a yoga routine and career my walks became more sporadic and even more so in the winter.
It was too cold or too slippery were the excuses that I readily used to talk myself out of it. I took to the treadmill sometimes. And yet, the hill on which our house is located is a favourite with my friends Sophia, Bill and Diane. Sophia a deeply spiritual woman who considers the hill a sacred place with divine energy. The three of them walk every day, through the winter. Bill is 87. In the fall he raked the leaves in his yard by himself and filled 28 bags. This hill is not for the faint-hearted and he does at least 3 everyday. Sophia who is in her mid 60s does 8 in under 2 hours and Diane who is in her mid 50s jaunts up and down as if she is taking a walk in the park! Sophia is the one who lured me out a few summers ago. Like my dad she is a wonderful storyteller and has bags of tales about her healing practice, her patients, her beautiful mediterranean summer garden, health fads, gluten free recipes and of course her trips to Corfu, Greece where she hails from. I have joined the group in the summer and on weekends but have chickened out when the barometer hit 0 Celsius.
Not this year. No more excuses. I went out and invested in a good pair of walking shoes. The daughter left me her Canada Goose jacket and hiking boots as further incentive and I apparelled myself with the rest of the cover. I am out on the hill with the first light on weekends and holidays. I will figure something out for weekdays. I still pant up and down and am kept buoyed by Sophia's stories, Diane's words of encouragement and Bill's sheer presence. I do at least an hour. And really there is no substitute for filling your lungs with fresh air, listening to the cadence of your walk, feeling the incredible gratitude that you must for your limbs and lifting your mood with the endorphins that flush your system at the end of it. I am convinced that Pharma companies will do no business if everyone walks away their depression, insomnia and what not! I have overcome serious sciatic pain with this. And the mental clarity and quietude that follow are just the icing on the cake!
So put on your shoes and a warm coat and walk your troubles away!
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