My head was in a bad place yesterday. WineGuy and I had a very long conference with Wizard’s teachers, and it put me in a terrible mood. I came home to another mountain of laundry to do for Moose, who apparently hasn’t brought his wash down since the Cretaceous period. As I sat folding the umpteenth t-shirt, I glumly realized that I didn’t walk yesterday, either, and I missed it.
So, I got my head together, put dinner in the oven early, and planned an evening walk. To chorale rehearsal. 1.6 miles away. That’s right, for the first time since we moved to Florida, I walked to chorale rehearsal. (I used to walk all the time to chorale rehearsal in PA because it was just six blocks from my house.) WineGuy was incredulous. He said, “Call me if you want me to pick you up.” Nope, I have my pride. I emptied my chorale bag and re-packed it with my music, a pencil, a water bottle, and my keys and set off. Four male mouths were agape as I marched out the front door.
Since I started my trek a little later than I expected, I called the chorale office to say I might be late, but I would be along shortly. It was a fine night for walking: temps in the 70s clear, my street was well lit, the path was pretty direct. I reached the neighborhood gate, then scurried to the sidewalk next to the adjacent neighborhood. There were fewer street lights, but there was a lot of ambient light (and noise) from the nearby major street, “Indian Road”. I reached Indian Road and pushed the button to cross. Three minutes later I got a “walk” sign which was decidedly short to cross eight traffic lanes. I speed-walked and made it with a few seconds to spare. My street crosses Indian Road and connects to a service road that parallels Indian Road. The service road between my street and the rehearsal hall, a church, felt like no-man’s land: dark; thick woods on one side; a canal on the other, kind of spooky. Fortunately, there was a sidewalk most of the way. When the path ran out, I walked on the street but realized later that the sidewalk continued on the other side of the street. I got to rehearsal a couple of minutes late, flush with pride, sweat and the night air.
We sang classical music for 1.5 hours and then had a break to change music for a pops concert. I won’t be able to sing the pops concert, so I chose to leave. If I had driven, I would have stayed and sang to help my section. Since I had a long, dark walk back, I thought I should leave. My section-mates were unhappy to see me go.
The walk back was uneventful. Crossing back over Indian Road was less scary because traffic was light. I was happy to reach the neighborhood gate. About 0.4 mile from my house, my knees were screaming and my back started to ache. I pushed on through the discomfort and slogged home. WineGuy, for once, was impressed and praised my efforts. I had a light dinner, a shower, a couple of Ibuprofen, and went to bed early.
A 3.2 mile walk. Not bad for a fat, old broad.