The Magic Watch

For a 60K walk my son loaned me his GPS watch.   Like all technology he presents to me, I first ridicule its use and deny that it will ever serve any real p[urpose.   I did the same with HD TV and now I own three.   Anyway, I wore the Garmin on this long walk.   I fell in love with it during the first hour.   During the third hour the battery lost its juice.   I complained for the next ten hours.

At my birthday party a few days later my son presented me with a new Garmin watch.   I wear it everywhere I walk.   I have maps of all my favorite courses prepared by this magic watch.   I know my pace, change in elevation and other stuff I ignore for now.   I've worn it on hikes, during road trips and I have a forever record of those events.   It's pretty simple.   I start and stop the watch and then later plug it into my computer.

If you are a walker with a little disposable income, you should buy a GPS watch.   If your short on cash, beg to your relatives...it worked for me.

Dark Days

Some mornings walks are extremely dark.   There is no Moon, it is partly cloudy and the time is close to changing.     It is so dark I can barely make out the details on my two dogs at the end of a 10' canvass strap.   It is so dark it wouldn't matter if it was foggy.   It's so dark that I won't walk down the hollow...too unsettling to be walking blind.  I have other options.

I thought maybe on the very dark days, after 30 minutes of walking I would start hearing better.   That doesn't seem to occur.   It doesn't matter how dark or how long I still hear poorly.   I can't speak for my walking partners.   Maybe their sniffer works better after walking in the dark.

I've always been a little spooked by the very dark, but the very dark and the very quiet is a bit too close to my idea of death.   Give me a little light and a little sound.

A Lotta Work

This morning while walking I contemplated retirement.    I seldom think about it.   I'm not sure how a person starts thinking of one thing and ends up somewhere else but it happens to me a lot.   Today while contemplating retirement I began thinking about every job that I have ever been paid to do.    There are many.

Junior High
Paper boy
Bingo runner
High School
Youth Core
Camp Counselor
College
Custodian
Steel Mill worker - Open Hearth
Camp Counselor
Food Service
While teaching
Sears Mechanic
Land surveyor
Farm Labor
Recreation instructor
Bus driver
School custodian
7th grade teacher
6th grade teacher
Middle School Math Teacher
Attendance supervisor
Bus Supervisor
Football coach
Basketball coach
Gymnastics Coach
Track Coach
While a principal
Plumber's helper
Electrician's helper
Landscaping
Farming, livestock and row crop
Educational Consultant
Staff development instructor
Elementary principal
Middle school principal
High school principal
At-Risk Coordinator
Gifted and Talented Coordinator

Most of these I have done two, three or four at a time.   I guess I'll quit thinking about retirement.   It tires me out.

Walking in Haight-Ashbury (a walk remembered)

I now realize I wasted part of my youth planning to go to Haight-Ashbury and join the revolution.   I walked to, through and from this area of San Francisco.   I saw some interesting shops ( I can't believe there is a market for that many expensive bongs) and ate in a cool Cuban restaurant.    I saw some folks who may have been living there since '68.   I saw some folks who wanted me to believe they were there since '68.   I mostly saw capitalists of whom I am one.    I don't feel so bad about missing the revolution.  

We were going to walk through the state park at the end of Haight Street but the contact high turned us around.   Caring Kim couldn't understand or tolerate how people that couldn't feed themselves were able to take care of so many pets.    Evey body had a scraggly looking dog.   This is what actually turned us around.

So as it turns out, in my old age, I am more suited to the Bohemian style of Sausalito than the grunge of Haight-Ashbury.   Even at my age, I'm more yuppy than hippie.   My dogs would have preferred the hippies.

The End of an Era

From time to time my friends lodge a protest after reading my blog.    It usually involves how I have characterized them using a code name.   The names are not an attempt to hide their identity but rather a way to tell the audience a little more about them.    They also serve as an inside joke.   Several months ago Larry the Communicator became a character in my blog.   Previously, he was Carhart Larry.   He lodged a protest and was heard.   I guess he's a good communicator.

I even felt the need to change the name of the edge of a road.   They once were called ditches.    I lodged my own protest and heard myself.   That area is now a road border...artfully done.

Alas, another protest has been lodged.   While walking around downtown San Francisco it became clear to me a change was required.   It seems that Checking Kim is leaving and Caring Kim is taking her place.   It is only right.   She checks because she cares (and because of that OCD thing).   

Welcome to my most frequent human walking partner, Caring Kim, who checks because she cares.

San Francisco Trek (A good memory)

When does a walk down the street become a challenge hike?   When you are walking the hills of San Francisco.   I am in reasonable physical condition, especially when it comes to walking.   The 3 1/2 hour walk I took In San Francisco tested that conditioning.

We (Checking Kim, Daring Dee, and I) started at our hotel at 4th and Market.   Within a few blocks we found a great deli for breakfast.   A few more blocks and we entered a whole new world, China Town.   At the street market they didn't bother with English labels and most of the foods were different than I have seen in America.   The entire walk through China Town was high energy and an attack on all the senses.   Amazing for a country boy from Iowa.   I want to do it again.

With little fanfare the pace slowed, the smells changed and the signs were now very familiar to me.   The country boy from Iowa was walking back to his roots.   I was now the Italian kid from Pittsburgh.   We were now walking through Little Italy.   Many cities have an Italian section.   Chicago's has almost disappeared.   Des Moines' is slowly becoming Hispanic.   Little Italy in San Francisco is still loaded with sidewalk cafes and still has an Italian flavor.

I began to see the hills that I remembered from movies and TV shows.   This was the San Francisco I expected.   Then I realized the hills were a much steeper grade than the camera can convey.   Daring Dee said we needed to walk to Coit Tower.   (At this point Checking Kim increased DD's vocabulary but that is for another blog.)   Coit Tower didn't seem so far away but as we began the walk up a hill so steep our knees were bouncing off our chins', I knew I would post a blog.   Stopping for occasional 30 second rests, we made it to the top feeling pretty good about ourselves.   Then we saw a group of trim 30-something guys that had run to the tower.   I felt less proud and DD felt something else.

Walking down from the tower was refreshing.   During this downhill piece we made our plans to walk to Lombard Street.    It seems there is a crooked road that must be seen.   However, it is also at the top of a steep climb.   Once again, knees to the chin, we began our climb.   CK decided she needed to walk more frequently.   We made it to the crooked street, took plenty of pictures and began our walk back to the Marriott.

It was our trip back that sealed the deal.   This was officially a hike.   It seems that without notice while walking away from the hotel we were walking down hill.    Our return was not exactly a cool down period.    But I would do it all again.   San Francisco is a wonderful city.  

Not Plugged In (Remembering Why I Don't)

Steve Jobs was an amazing man who changed our habits.   I by no means want to disrespect the genius, but I don't  iWalk.    When walking, I don't use an iPhone or an iPod.  I listen to nothing except what the world provides to my ears.   I'm not following some altruistic path.   I just think it is too dangerous.

Techie Gordan listens to eBooks while he walks.   He walks for many hours per day.   He is still alive and unharmed. I won't take that risk.

Even if the wind is to my back, I often can't hear cars coming up behind me.   And that is with my ears wide open.  If I were listening to an iPod or such, I would never hear anything.   I fear my dogs would be dragging home a pretty banged up carcass.  

Or maybe the dogs would leave me by the side of the road and run away, stopping at the first house that offered a quick treat.   Checking Kim would be very concerned until she was certain the dogs were safe.   I'm sure the glue wagon would find me eventually.

Anyway, I don't iWalk.

High Plains Drifter

I seldom get to walk in interesting places.   New Mexico was an interesting place.   I walked around many of the tourist spots.   I saw all the turquoise and silver I ever care to see.   Rode a tram.   Saw old town markets in Santa Fe and in Albuquerque.    I walked some cool trails in the very dark morning and checked out the constellations with the Google Sky app.   The high desert puts on quite a show.

I had another fun walk, a hike actually.   A 90 minute hike with friends up to some ancient ruins.   Hiking at 6700 feet is different than walking dogs at 800 feet.

I had two other walking experiences in New Mexico.   One spiritual and one creepy.   Myself and two friends walked through a museum at Los Alamos.   You may remember that this is the lab that developed the atomic bombs the were dropped on Japan.   There were several Japanese tourist also visiting.   I was uncomfortable.

In Old Town Albuquerque there was an old catholic church that was being refurbished.   The more I stayed inside the church the longer I wanted to be inside the church.   I'm not a very good Catholic but I felt extremely Catholic on that day.   Two weeks later and that feeling has still lasted.   I wish I would have done the church after the museum.

The Wind is the Worst (A Rerun)

If nasty weather is designed as a test, I generally fail.   There are elements of weather that make me not want to walk.   Walking in the rain is over romanticized.   My face is always wet, I can't see and my thighs provide a whole new meaning to road rash. When it rains we should call a rain out and stay indoors.    Rain storms are why cavemen invented caves.

A little fog never hurt.   But sometimes there is too much fog.    My little red blinkers just can't be seen.  On those days I call for a "fog out"and my dogs and I turn around and go home.   Like a rain out, it is a walk lost.   The fog is the reason we invented the lighthouse.

Walking in the snow is no better than the rain. I have the same set of problems as rain with the addition of frozen nipples and no visibility to traffic. When it snows, we should stay indoors. Snow storms are why the Sioux invented tepees.

I don't walk in the mud or when it's icy.   Slip sliding away is a Paul Simon lyric not a physical challenge.  When it is muddy and icy we should stay indoors. Mud and ice is why J.P. Morgan invented the mortgage.

The wind takes all of these nasties and accelerates the misery.   Add the cold to any of these and I can find the right clothing.   There is no right clothing that saves you from the wind.   Windbreakers are a North Face joke.  

Wind I hate you the worst.

Poker Dave

I never walked with Poker Dave.   Today's notes are not about walking, they are about remembering.   I walk long but my memory is short.   That's good and bad.

I never walked with Poker Dave.   I went to the horse races with him.   He bet small and pretty conservative.   He had a math system for most things.   Not the ponies.   He just had fun.

I never walked with Poker Dave.   I worked countless hours with him.   I asked him thousands of questions.   Sometimes he had great answers and sometimes he had better questions.    He always had great ideas.

I did play poker with him.   He introduced interesting games to our group.   He had a math system to try to win.   Most of our games were high/low split and he went low 75% of the time.   Everyone always knew he was going low, yet he often still pulled it off.   A conservative bettor that still took his shots.

A couple of days ago Poker Dave became a spirit.   He is now guided by the energy of the tens of thousands of students he has positively impacted over the years.   I wish I would have walked with him.