I always somehow manage to get in my minimum five miles (eight kilometres) a day. Given the flexible nature of my work and my work day it isn't that difficult really. I just try to factor in the time and distance before I begin my day. This morning I decided that I did not want to walk a lot in the hot afternoon, as they were forecasting thirty degrees inland (twenty-five by the water). Of course, whenever they forecast warm weather, the CBC always gives us nearly a week to get into an anxious panic as we are warned to stay in the shade, apply the sunscreen with a trowel, drink lots of water, and make sure that we've updated our will. It's like preparing for Armageddon. Sometimes it does get hot and intolerably so, but more often than not it's pleasant in the shade and not that bad in the blazing solar death rays.
Being cowed into a creeping sense of dread of the coming heatwave I chose to play it safe. I went to sleep early, and woke up early (too early) and struggled out of bed just past five in the morning. I was out of the apartment by 7:15. I planned to get in my five miles (eight kilometres) in the cool of the morning.
It was lovely. I walked three miles (4.8 kilometres) through the breathtakingly lovely streets of Shaughnessy and Kerrisdale then stopped nearly an hour in one of my favourite cafes where I enjoyed an iced Americano and chocolate cookie while beginning a new drawing (number two of a series of seven Resplendent Quetzals, if you must know, and here is a lovely Google image to refresh your memory):
Oh, but can it get any lovelier! I am practicing for my trip to Costa Rica this March, fourth visit, where these glorious birds live and I even entertain the slightly lame-ass hope of selling some art while I'm there, which is why I want to get really good at drawing the local bird life.
I resumed walking for another two miles till I arrived at work. During this time I spent a lot of time on the phone with Fulano. I think I've mentioned elsewhere on these pages my eccentric practice of speaking Spanish to my imaginary friend, Fulano, on my voicemail whenever I'm out walking. It's very effective and no one is any the wiser. Non-Spanish speakers assume that I'm a very pale Mexican; native Spanish speakers, not so easily fooled in their mother tongue, assume that I'm a Gringo talking to a Hispanic friend in rather acceptable sounding Spanish.
I even managed to work in another four miles (6.4 kilometres) for the rest of the day: half a mile with my client, (0.8 kilometres), one and a half miles (2.4 kilometres) when I got off the bus on my way to my next professional assignment to walk some more through the breathtakingly lovely streets of Shaughnessy. Following a meeting over coffee with one of my bosses I walked another half mile (0.8 kilometres) where I enjoyed an extended coffee break (iced Americano with chocolate mousse dessert) in a cosy corner on a couch in a local bakery café. A young Chinese Canadian whom I've never met before joined me and we got into the most amazing conversation for the next half hour or so while I was working on the new quetzal drawing. He is a food importer and I was trying to persuade him to consider bringing in cashew fruits from Central America.
My last client for the day cancelled so I walked another two miles (3.2 kilometres) again through the breathtakingly lovely streets of Shaughnessy, then took the bus home.
Why do I walk all the time? Well, it's the only exercise I'm any good at, so I've always walked long distances, ever since I got lost for several hours when I was four years old and got my parents in a tizzy (they eventually found me in the local cop shop, smiling in a big rocking chair while a young plainclothes constable told me stories and fed me candy.) This walking habit did make me rather unusual as a child and since I was unpopular I spent a lot of time walking alone and actually enjoying it. Ever since those days in the Sixties I have been making a virtue out of necessity (rather a default kind of necessity) and extolled walking for its many alleged benefits. Also so much the easier since I totally sucked at sports.
Now that walking is fashionable and almost everyone is doing it it still has lost none of its lustre for me. I still love walking, especially wherever there is a forest, or parks, or lovely houses or all of the above. I am at my best when I walk as I look carefully at the light in the leaves of the trees, study details of heritage houses, quietly observe those who are nearby, and not so quietly curse sidewalk cyclists. I imagine I'll keep on walking till my legs give out and I don't expect that's going to happen for a very long time.
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