My life as a pedestrian: or why walking is highly under-rated

In my last post I commented on life as a cyclist. OK, maybe not as a professional cyclist, but as one who utilizes a bicycle in order to get from point A to point B. I failed to mention the burning sensation invoked in one's quads after several consecutive days of not riding, the triumph of muscle memory, the overwhelming sense of thirst that can accompany the end of the ride, and the bloodshot eyes that I inevitably procured along the way making me look like I was smoking pot before coming into work instead of trying to do something nice for the earth. For the record I've never smoked pot either before, after, during work or at any other point in my existence. I figure I do enough stupid stuff in my life, I don't need any herbal assistance.

My new job is a thirty minute walk from my house start to finish. The last job was a half hour bike ride away. When I tell people I walk to work I sometimes get a strange or a confused look. There is an unsaid attitude of why-would-you-do-that!? But no one is gauche enough to ask such a thing. But to me it's not that big of a deal. I'm trying to do my own small new urbanist part and every little bit helps. (The new urbanists fervently believe in walkable communities. Ideally, cities would be set up so that people could walk (or bike) to work, or be able to use eco-friendly mass transit, children could walk to their schools rather than be shuttled in monstrous SUVs, there would be an abundance of green space etc.,)

When Katherine Heigel was on the cover of Vanity Fair, a lady observed that the greatest luxury is being able to walk to work. And this lady, whose name escapes me, should know a thing or two about luzury for if memory serves as she was/is (?) the head of some tony section of LVMH (Louis Vuitton Moet Hennessey and the million other luxury brands beneath its mink umbrella).

My walk isn't nearly as treacherous nor as fraught with peril as my bike rides were. You haven't really lived until you're on a regular two lane divided city street and a semi-truck comes alongside you in the right lane. Yikes!

In fact, it's really, really safe. It's composed of completely straight lines- fifteen minutes walking north (?) and then fifteen minutes walking west (if I was heading north originally). Granted, I do have to cross a road that is an on ramp to the freeway on 198, but there's a built-in crosswalk signal (yay!) and for the rest of my journey, with the exception of crosswalks, a car would literally have to jump the curb to hit me. Or come tearing out of a commercial driveway, but I'd like to think that my sense of self-preservation would prohibit such an act.

In the morning it gives me time to wake up, and if you know anything about me, it's that I am not a morning person- curse my circadian rhythms! And in the afternoon, after a day of information overload, it gives me time to clear my head and reflect on what happened and what I could do better. I am literally engaged with my surroundings- the feel of the air on my face, the sun blessing my head, the dirt giving way beneath my tread.

I know I won't always have the luxury of walking to work, though I would like to, so for now I enjoy its simple pleasure.