My family will quickly confirm that I am not the most observant of people. I’ll miss friends’ birthdays, fail to notice a new haircut on my wife until is long past “new,” and will let trends wash over me entirely unnoticed until I wake up in stonewashed jeans and wonder where everyone went. But, as this dreadful pandemic grinds on, seemingly without end, I have, finally, noticed something.
Now back in a largely empty office, I have noticed that my general outlook on life wanes as the week wears on. The many challenges of this year (international, national, local, personal, parental, professional, educational, financial – you name it, there isn’t a stress-free area of life right now, and I imagine the same is probably true for many of you) seem to chafe and pull more on Thursday than they do on Monday. And, gentle blog reader, I think I have put my finger on the issue.
Since the old, accustomed, not-perfect-but-at-least-well-known way of life careened to an abrupt halt last spring, I have taken to my feet over the weekends and enjoyed long rambles – often out for a couple of hours at a time, making my way from the center of town where we live, through neighborhoods teeming with Saturday leaf-blowers towards the edge of town, past the hospital and its Covid-testing tent, and out into the piney woods to the south. Or I’ll make for Brunswick’s ungainly green bridge sorely in need of a paint job and cross the mighty Androscoggin River, amble over Topsham’s hills, and return over the singularly lovely Swinging Bridge. And other times, I’ll walk the seven straight miles back to town from Mere Point, our narrow finger of land jutting out into Casco Bay towards the Atlantic.
I’ll occasionally talk to an old friend while walking, but these rambles are usually solitary – just me, my thoughts, and an old Springsteen album (if you haven’t listened to “Lucky Town” in a while, you may find it worth a revisit…). I’ve known how much I enjoy these walks in the moment, but it’s only recently dawned on me how they have a nourishing effect that can linger for days. Fueled by the weekend’s rambles, Monday’s relative ebullience (Covid caveats apply, of course) fades into Tuesday, which sinks into Wednesday, which whimpers into Thursday – and irritability and despair creep towards me with lockstep predictability as the week goes on.
The cure? More walking, of course. It’s not just exercise, either. I’m able to get a workout in just about every day – but half an hour on my attic ski machine just doesn’t fill the sails the way a half hour walk through the fields does. One of the few silver linings to this pandemic is, for me, more time. So, I’m using more of that time to simply walk – regardless of weather, and usually regardless of route or destination. Doing so throughout the week has a measurable effect on my mood – and perhaps surprisingly, on my productivity. I’m able to think more clearly, work more efficiently and creatively, and am just generally a nicer guy to be around if I can just break through the inertia and walk.
These are not, of course, new insights and any old dimestore self-help guru will tell you the same thing. But as I said at the outset, I’m not the most observant of fellows and I’m happy to stumble (pun, regrettably, intended – but at least I didn’t say “walk”) into this insight now. Whether it is walking, running, wheeling, or scooting, I hope you find your own tonic for these pandemic blues that are seemingly more widespread than the virus itself. And when it’s time, I very much hope to get out there and walk with you on a Parallel trip – whether in Spain, Portugal, or here in Maine.
