Two Walks

What if, I asked myself this morning, I tried to blog about something every day? Would that encourage me to walk more, or to write more? I wouldn’t have to take a picture every time, although I could carry the little water- and shockproof camera I bought after almost destroying my Sony in a downpour in Scotland. Would that be a way to accomplish something different this year? Would I be able to stick to that resolution?

I was pondering these questions this morning when a walk was suggested. I couldn’t say no: this was my chance to put that resolution into practice. We walked one of our usual routes: through the neighbourhood to the pedestrian bridge on Wascana Creek, west to Elphinstone Street, across the bridge to the south side of the creek, west to Albert Street, across another bridge, and back along the creek’s north side. It’s another bright, warm day–or as warm as Saskatchewan in January is likely to get: minus 11. Warm enough that a spring jacket is enough for me, warm enough that a hat isn’t required. We startled a jackrabbit, which sprinted across a vacant lot. Chickadees sang by the creek, house sparrows beside houses. Smiling dogs on leashes. Children sledding down the side of the flood-control dike. Wood smoke. Then home.

I was paying little attention to my surroundings, though. Instead, I was running through my anxieties about the new semester, which starts tomorrow. I couldn’t break out of those ruminations. They were still with me when we returned home. Walking is often offered as a way to reduce anxiety; it doesn’t always work.

Then, after lunch, I picked my way up Albert Street, on snowy sidewalks and through intersections treacherous with ice, to the barbershop. I stopped on the way at an Asian store to buy green tea to fortify myself during the coming semester. The barber trimmed my beard, which I’ve been growing since November. “That looks right,” he told me. “It’s nearly three months old.” He used clippers to remove the tufts and even everything out, and then I got a short version of a hot-towel shave. When I decide to remove this beard, I’ll be going back for the full hot-towel treatment!

Afterwards, clean and tidy, I walked east on Dewdney Avenue and south on Broad Street to College Avenue, and then home. This time, the walking did help soothe my worries, even though the surroundings–busy streets thick with traffic–were, I would’ve thought, less likely to generate a sense of calm. Why the difference between this morning and this afternoon? I couldn’t say. I do feel a little more prepared to teach this week, though. At least I won’t look like a grizzled prospector whose mule, burdened with supplies, is tied to a bicycle rack outside.