Walking

The town we live in has a great system of paved walking paths. One of these paths passes right by our house. Every few years I get on an exercise kick and walk the paths. I like to walk first thing in the morning, when it's not too hot. I live in Indiana, where the summers are hot and humid, even at the crack of dawn. Come August, when it's really bad, I open the front door and the thick air hits me in the face, then I wimp out and fall out of the habit of walking.

I got on another exercise kick this year. I started walking in May, during nice spring weather. We had an unusually mild summer, with little humidity and only a few days over 90°, great for walking. So I was able to keep walking right through the summer into the fall. Then we had the most beautiful September on record--bright blue skies, temperatures in the 70s, no rain. It's only now starting to get cold, and I hope I can manage to not let the cold chase me indoors.

I walk fast. Really fast. I don't walk fast on purpose; that just seems to be my natural gait. When my daughter was younger, she used to say I had my rockets on. But now she's the only one I know who can keep up with me. I must have trained her right!

The walking paths are really popular, and I see a lot of regulars while I walk. One of the more interesting walkers is an older woman, maybe 70 or 80 years old. I first noticed her in the middle of the summer. She was wearing a trench coat, gloves, and a knitted hat and was carrying a small gift bag. I saw her again a few days later, and she was dressed the same way but carried a small folded umbrella instead of the gift bag. Since then, I see her several days a week, and the only thing that changes is the gift bag or the umbrella. She's always friendly whenever we pass each other. Now that it's getting colder, I don't wonder about her warm clothing the way I did in the middle of the summer. But I still wonder what's in the gift bag!