Identity Shift
/Do you like to walk? Do you consider yourself a walker?
I saw this quote from comedian Stephen Wright: “Everywhere is within walking distance if you have the time,” and so to prove the point I asked the mapping app on my phone to give me a route for walking from our house in Midland, Texas, to our daughter’s house in Mansfield, Texas, 319 miles. The app said it would take 4 days and 13 hours to walk, which breaks out to 3 miles per hour, or 20 minutes per mile. I doubt I could keep that pace for four-and-a-half days straight, but like Stephen Wright said, everywhere is within walking distance.
* * * * *
On May 31, I finished 46 years of running; I started in June 1978, hoping to impress a girl. During all those years I’ve run a total of 39,428 miles. (I was never a fast runner, but always a reliable documenter.)
Nowadays, I’m no longer running thanks to two after-market knees and one rebuilt foot, but I’m walking three miles about 3-4 times per week. And, yes, I include those walks in my running log. That is, I record my intentional miles, the ones I mean to be exercise and not just pedestrian transportation.
If I continue my current pace of thirty miles per month, I’ll cross the 40,000 miles threshold by the end of December 2025. 40,000 is pretty cool, but a year-and-a-half is a long time to push toward a goal. Maybe I’ll make it a group event, invite fellow walkers to join me, and after mile 40,000 we can all have a milkshake together.
* * * * *
It only took me six or seven years to be comfortable describing what I do as walking instead of running. I had too much identity tied up in the word running. In fact, my first book was titled, Running With God. And it isn’t a coincidence that the first writing I did for public consumption was for the local running club newsletter in 1988. My best ideas were born on the run.
A couple of years ago I finally admitted to myself that most observers never considered what I did to be actual running. More than once, more than ten or twenty times, someone would tell me they saw me out powerwalking when I thought I was running.
My transition from running to walking was more about definitions than speed or form. Today I’m OK telling Cyndi, “I’m going out walking,” but it took me a long time to feel good about saying walking instead of running. It felt too much like downsizing.
* * * * *
When walking in Spain on the Camino, our longest day was fourteen miles. I was exhausted by the time we got to our hotel, but I knew I could have gone further if necessary. I asked myself: Could I train for another marathon? Do I have the patience to walk that far knowing it would probably take me eight hours or more? Not only do I worry whether I have patience for that, can I actually expect someone (Cyndi) to accompany me and wait that long?
* * * * *
Back in 1978 I never imagined that running (now walking) would become instrumental in how I lived my life, how I planned my time, where I traveled for fun and leisure, how I met my friends, and how I ended up serving in local government. I certainly didn’t expect the daily dose of being alone on my feet would become spiritual meditation. I didn’t intend for running to become such an integral part of my life. All I wanted to do was win back my girl.
* * * * *
PS: The best news of all? That girl I was trying to win back - her name is Cyndi, and we’ve been married now for almost 45 years.
“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32
Thank you for reading! This is a reader-supported publication and it only works with your help. Please share with your friends or buy my books. You can find more of my writing, and learn about my books, or subscribe to this free blog, at http://berrysimpson.com.
