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Pounding
pavements in a bid to be an avid exerciser, I have decided to sometimes work my
feet to walk lonely paths where I only encounter vehicular motion. I am a rapid
rambler with short majestic steps. My brisk pace makes me look like a speed
walker who appears to be floating while pacing. I wish I would have a way of
making my walking genes addictive as opposed to getting psyched at the spur of
the moment. Well, I am a feckless walker, born without a sense of direction. I
hate it though, but at the end of the day not all who wander are lost.
Sometimes
I spell my coordinates, but most times, I let my mind piece up the whole jigsaw
that is the map of where I want to end up. The best part is that my sense of
direction is intact. What I know is that I have a goal; to sweat out the
lethargy that characterizes my sedentary lifestyle as a worker who rarely has
time for socializing. Walking hence is a respite, a chance to process the
problems and struggles I go through in sometimes gloomy days that I hide in my
introverted life. The out life has a sanguine feel, I am
melancholic.
Truth
be told, I am in this carefree time of my life where things have reached a
stalemate. I am not pushing harder like I should. There should obviously be
things that I should have sealed tight like a can but I have not, ‘yaani,
nilikuwa nimekafunga tene’. Who cares, it’s a feeling I have learnt to grow
comfortable with. Which should not be the case. To kill these mediocrity
thoughts, I meander from the slums to the leafy suburbs like a river winding
its way across grassy plains, down rocky waterfalls and occasionally collecting
debris that line the watercourse. I love this crisp wintry weather with its
sedating air, you can walk as far as your legs can carry you given that you
rarely feel drained and parched. The fluffy cumulus clouds shield you from the
devastating heat of the menacing sun which hides in its private room.
I
started walking way back in campus, at night, to burn off the heavy meal that I
rarely took for supper. I just wanted to go off and explore the bowels of our
raucous Nairobi City. At such a time, I would not be harassed by hundreds of
people who dot the busy streets during the day with nothing particular in their minds. Walking
at night when peddlers had spread their wares with generic and cut-rate
products probably from China was by and large imbuing. I loved the eeriness of
the night as I passed lonely streets, some darkened while others glowing you feel
like you are walking in broad daylight. Obviously, dark spots did send a chill
down my spine and I felt my typical bravery being pricked. To date nighttime
roving remains a facet that springs up occasionally when I go out to sip ale as
a mechanism to remain sober.
These
days, I walk during the day, I reserve the night for work and sleep. As I did
trek on my way to the city’s exurb, I saw this lady who trudged along the
pavements in a sedate pace. My mind focused on the gentle footsteps that seemed
to echo throughout the desolate street. She had a random gait, and she was in
walking gear pounding her feet with experience. Her steps revealed her feet was
used to the shoes she was wearing which were gel cushioned to absorb shocks and
the reflexive details of the rising terrain. She was probably the kind who does
not want to crank her muscles through a rigorous exercise like running. She
walked in front of me for a while before I overtook her leaving her dawdling
not to be seen again from her sight.
I
love the surge of endorphins that feels my body with a feel-good rush each time
I walk where I presume I cannot meet someone twice. I have a sharp memory and
there are instances where I have noticed individuals especially those with
distinct features or clothing in different stretches of where I have been to.
Not that meeting a stranger a second time is perilous, but it’s odd and tells a
lot about you when you are wandering on the streets looking for something
spectacular to write home about. The question that I ask is whether those guys
I met also recognize that they saw me roaming the streets. Is it a coincidence
that we met twice? This normally prompts me to take the next available action
that comes into mind, take the next matatu back to the digs and think about
nothing and to format delete the trails of the day and the individuals I met.
While
walking, there was this time I was pacing on a grassy side path that was also
characterized by intermittent mud after a heavy downpour. I never realized that
the treads of my shoes had worn out while feeling like a real nigga walking on
the lonely path. While jumping over an insignificant stream that had been
eroded at the banks by water, I almost slipped but the impact of the slide fell
on my shoes that escaped with mud all over after slightly sinking on the wet
banks. I started feeling panicky because crossing to the hilly side almost made
me feel like a drowning man clutching on a straw. After the near scary and embarrassing
experience, my step picked up speed as did my pounding heart. But that incident
had clearly sabotaged my confident gait. If I had fallen how could I explain
the soiled clothes in an already dry environment? Luckily, nothing ruined an
already good day.
PS:
There are free apps online to monitor the amount of brisk walking an individual
does and provide tips on how to incorporate more into the daily routine.
Hasta
La Vista Baby.
[Picture
Source: Google Images]
