i park a walker (it was loret's) next to our front door. sometimes i will push it around the apartment with some cargo or other on it. i normally go outside with just a cane; but three times a week i take it up to the gym, because a workout can really make it desirable afterwards.
before going to bed each night i fill in a sheet with the day's metrics, some of them subjective - 'mood' for instance, or 'memory' - and others objective, that is, how many tries does it take to juggle three balls twenty uninterrupted throws. one of the objective 'tests' is how many steps does it take to walk a certain length down the hall. the first time i walked it - maybe a few months ago - miller was standing at the end, and it took only five long steps. he and i were both amazed, but it was a day of particularly good strength and balance. (for comparison, spencer can make it in three steps - or jumps). usually the number of steps ranges from six to eight. (some readers may find keeping metrics like this a bit morbid, conjuring up images of robert mcnamara's failed vietnam policy. and perhaps my indochinese body truly is on it's way to the red menace - to further this metaphor beyond all hope of utility. but i take these notes for good reason, not just because i am a recovering engineer: coupled with notes of the medications and supplements i take, my goal is to keep better track of what may be helping.)
i've recently had something of a harder several weeks, and yesterday a bit harder still. however, last night i made the 'walk' in six steps. spencer and miller were reading in their bunks, and spencer asked me how many. 'good job' he says. i tell him i've actually had a hard day, and maybe like a class or school that 'teaches to the test' this test isn't really very meaningful anymore. he quickly got my gist and said maybe i should 'mix it up.'
so this morning walking down the long hall and around the corner to the elevator i counted 35 - taking wide careful steps, no walker, no cane. then later with spencer going to the gym (on the top floor of our apartment) i stepped the same number. if ever i should push off a wall, that adds a step. so the measure is of gait, strength, and balance.
after reading of the fellow loving his walk, i felt genuinely privileged, all the walking i have done, and continue to do this life. across europe and nepal, and each day all the way down the hall, at a minimum. i'm lucky, i'm lucky, i can walk under ladders...
i was sitting in an easy chair and looked up from the sun magazine where i'd read of this similarly gifted man. my eyes perceived a vibrating tableau, pulsing with life, with love. i saw the picture of me with loret, of each of my boys with her, and the flag of nepal, three bells from my mother's collection - she died in 2001, shortly after i was diagnosed with ms - my dresser with folded clothes on top, in clear need of putting away for a week or two. i glanced over toward the window; it's a cloudy day, and raining, but not cold. i remembered how much i like walking in the rain. will walk later with my sweetheart. i've still got sunshine...
