Her Morning Walk

I'd almost forgotten about her. On a route I don't often take anymore, and a little later in the morning than I travel most of the year, our paths just don't cross. But there she was again. Just like last summer.

If I leave on time so that I pass along the avenue at 8:45 a.m., it's pretty much a guarantee she'll be there. She walks with the wide, semi-shuffling gait of the elderly, and yet, she walks with purpose; marching along in her floral blouse and floppy hat.

As I sail past her on my morning commute, I look at her and wonder:

Where do you come from?

How far do you go?

When did you start walking?

Do you walk year-round?

I wonder if any of the other drivers notice her. Does she notice us? Do any of the 'regular' vehicles stand out to her, as she stands out to me?

I respect this routine she's established for herself. I admire her commitment. I have never been one to stick to a consistent physical activity routine. My physical activity is more sprinkled throughout my week, and often disguised as other activities (i.e. gardening). And especially when it comes to mornings, the only thing I'm intentional about is my coffee.

But there has always been something I've respected about these elderly--the mall walkers, the aquasizers, the summer strollers. Moving regularly in whatever way they can. Keeping their bodies and their brains active. I can only presume that they have realized that if they are still on this earth, they have a purpose, and it likely does not involve sitting around on a couch somewhere watching daytime TV.

So I raise my travel mug and nod to the lady in the floppy hat.

It's good to see you again this morning.