Walking

I've been walking the path next to Westheimer now for a couple years. I've learned nothing beyond my disdain for nature and man made filth long side Texas roads. It amazes me that I still like camping. I have learned a bit about avoiding wet pants.

If I could drive I would not walk. I say that it is the only exorcise I get. My health has benefited from my daily trudge through the wild. I fear the exhaust from the passing vehicles may do me in. That or being hit by a car. Not just crossing streets, but tire tracks from wild drunks above the curb that I must cross tell me of the dangers I face every day.

One might think that the walk gives me time to think, or that I can listen to music. I've tried both of those and neither one seems to work. If I get distracted by thought, I stumble. If I listen to music, I get run over. Simple enough.

When it is hot, I sweat like a leaky bucket balanced on my head. When it is cold, I shiver and jog. When it is dark, I carry a flashlight. When it is bright I ware a hat and sunglasses. When it is wet, I get wet and take all day to dry at work. When it is muddy, I have shoes to change in to at work.