Walk Journal ~ October 22 & 23

Yesterday's blue skies were a clear invitation to get out.  Just before the 2-mile mark, I posted the day's walk photo on Facebook, saying something like "The lake is drained ... I'm sure that's a metaphor for something."  It's probably more accurate to say the lake is lowered.  It's lowered every few years to give homeowners the opportunity to fix their lakewalls and docks.  It's had me thinking about being drained though.  

Drained is often how I felt all the years I spent being unhealthy.  It started before divorce during the lonely married years and continued afterwards.  I don't know how women cope after divorce if they have no family or no family nearby.  Raising kids alone isn't easy.  Making every decision, not having a ready sounding board, second guessing actions you've taken--it's all draining.  I was so fortunate to have my parents to help me.  But there were days I'd get home from work and running young kids to and from activities and stand in the kitchen completely unable to figure out what to make for dinner.  Although it should have been a simple one, it was just one decision too many.

I'd walked from the lake over to the river.  It, too, is looking drained.  I can't think when we last had a good rain.  I can't remember the river ever being this low.  I walked to the center on the dry, rocky riverbed to take a couple of pictures.  It was a strange feeling to be in that spot.  I've want to get into the river for over a year.  I always say I'm going to do it on August 28.  I supposed I should be happy that the river is so low heading into winter and snow season.  It will greatly reduce the chance of flooding during spring rains and runoffs.  If you've visited this space previously, you'll remember that this river, now my friend and confidant, invaded my home on August 28, 2011, overflowing her banks because of Tropical Storm Irene.  Losing so much in a few short hours, the subsequent cleaning, demolition, renovation and refurnishing was a draining process.  Come to think of it, the drains on the lower level of the house flowed in reverse that day due to pressure on the sewer system.  Drains.

It was such a pretty day and I'd started out early so was able to visit the pond too.  We must have hit peak leaf season this week.  There are still leaves above, clinging to their branches but lots of leaves are below too, providing a soft, mottled carpet for guests.  I'd left under brilliant blue skies but when I emerged from the woods, it was dusk.  I walked the rest of the way home under lamplight.  It was a 7-mile day.

A mailbox is all that's left of this address.

Today's skies are less clear and the temperature has dropped substantially but I talk myself into a quick hour of my walking workout.  Today I choose Riverside Drive to lead me out of the neighborhood.  They've begun taking down the houses.  Houses that were devastated during Irene--much more so than was mine.   It's sad to see them go.  I'm struck by how small the parcels of land appear now without their homes centered in them.  There are more slated to come down.  It seems to be taking a long time but I suppose, like all things involving government, buying unwanted properties takes some time.  I find myself wondering about these families again.  Where have they gone?  Have they made out all right?  There are no plans to replaces these houses.  These places will become catch basins, rain gardens and other man-made "natural" drainage aids. They're designed to drain the excess water away or absorb it, I suppose.  This is supposed to help the rest of us when the river is knocking at our doorsteps.  Irene wasn't the first time the river had flowed into my house.  It was just the deepest visit.  So better drainage around the neighborhood should help.  That's the theory.  Draining can be helpful, I suppose.

I'd intended to only walk around downtown but the drizzle had stopped so I headed off toward the pond again.  It's such a peaceful place.  The geese are here almost year 'round now.  A lot of people don't like them but I think they're beautiful.  They're very clannish and look after one another so well.  In the spring the young families are really something to watch.  The parent geese are so patient with their offspring, waiting for them to catch up and nudging them into the water.  I circle quickly around and head for home.  It's a 4-mile day today.

It's good to be back on track.  The last month of excuses and inattention to healthy habits was draining.  Making good food choices and journaling, planning ahead for healthy meals and exercise:  It's a lot of work--but it's far less draining.

~~~

Playlist for these walks:

Todd Carey Nintendo

and my lifeline:  Gavin DeGraw.  The new album may be some of his best work.  Here's one:  Finest Hour

95.5 WPLJ streaming John Fox and Ralphie Aversa