I took a walk today.
I walk everyday, actually. This isn’t a unique occurrence. The frequency with which I walk compared to other people might be, but the act itself is not something I believe to be my sovereign territory.
It’s between twenty and twenty five minutes walking to campus on a given day, so that’s just short of an hour I do this on weekdays. Tack on time spent walking between classes, or when I get lunch, and that’s even more. It’s no wonder I’ve always preferred comfortable, athletic shoes.
Even on bitterly cold winter days, I don’t mind it (to a point, anyway). The time helps me to focus, allows me to think, reflect, and analyze. It is a comfort, in ways I can’t adequately explain to people that aren’t me.
I remember walking to work. I couldn’t tell you how many times I did that, or how many times of day I did it at. Morning, midday, evening, night, any of it, all of it.
But the preparation was the same, in school or work. Thinking of the day ahead, or if coming home, thinking of the day behind, and looking forward to putting my feet up.
As I said, I’m not sure why this act of walking is a comfort to me. As I’m still raging on the introvert/extrovert debate, perhaps I enjoy the solitude, or the familiarity of it. Or it’s the break in between a scheduled day, a time where I’m not committed to anything. That I’m not at a destination, but on the way there.
Or perhaps it’s just enough that I took a walk, and that’s all there is to it.