Walk. Just Walk - COVID-19 edition

An expression that has often come to mind as we weather this pandemic is “the cure is worse than the disease.” Trying to be a good citizen, I am not leaving home any more than absolutely necessary. It's tough.

Luckily, we Minnesotans have some experience with “sheltering in place” given our winter weather. One sure bet to mitigate cabin fever is getting outside to take a walk each day. The experts tell us that walking (or biking or running) outside does not increase the likelihood of spreading the virus so long as we keep our distance from others on the trails. Anxiety and depression lower one’s immune system too and walking is a good antidote for mental stress. 

Here is a little update of my advice about walking…

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All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking.

Friedrich Nietzsche

Walking is man's best medicine.

Hippocrates

And they discovered something very interesting: when it comes to walking, most of the ant's thinking and decision-making is not in its brain at all. It's distributed. It's in its legs.

Kevin Kelly

Everywhere is within walking distance if you have the time.

Steven Wright

I've been either walking or jogging for 45-90 minutes at least four to five times a week since 1978. It's no great sacrifice - just a long cherished habit - one of the few that I have that are actually healthy. When once asked for "secrets of success," my number one secret was to "take a walk."

Walking seems to be the one universally recommended activity for better health. Eggs, butter, red meat, fasting, running, etc. all are recommended or not-recommended depending on which way the medicinal wind is blowin on a particular day, but walking never gets dissed. (23 and 1/2 hours: What is the single best thing we can do for our health?)

These are some ways I make the most of my walking time. YMMV.

1. Walk during the day. I had the opportunity to walk at lunch time during much of my career. I've often wondered whether my time might have been better spent socializing with teachers in the district in a lunchroom, but I've decided that my time spent alone with my own thoughts was as or more beneficial. A midday break cleared the mind and loosened up problems somehow. In retirement, a mid-morning or early afternoon walk works best for me. 

2. Walk alone. On occasion I walk with others and enjoy the experience*, but 99% of the time I walk by myself, at my own pace and where I want to go. It's hard to think when you are either talking or listening to somebody else. My sense is that the world would greatly improve were everyone to spend 30 minutes a day simply reflecting. 

* I have discovered some good hiking MeetUp groups in which I participate. The major advantage of walking with these informal clubs is that you are often pushed to walk a little farther or faster than you might alone - and you learn some new places to hike.

3. Walk outdoors, preferably in a natural setting. Treadmills don't do it for me. Avoiding traffic and exhaust fumes isn't much fun either. Look for a park or nature area to take your walk. (I wear a blaze orange vest when walking through a city nature area that allows bow hunting of deer during the fall.)

4. Walk in every weather. A warm coat, a fleece layer, a hat (with earflaps), and gloves are all you need even here in Minnesota to walk all winter long. Oh, be sure to add ice grips to your shoes in the winter too. A rain jacket in the office works the rest of the year. 

5. Walk, don't stroll. I don't speed walk. I don't walk with weights. I don't stop every five minutes to do jumping jacks. My regular walk looks odd enough as it is. But I do walk purposely fast enough to get the heart rate and breathing going a little faster. Throw in a few hills if you have them. Walk like you mean it. I use the MapMyWalk app on my phone to track how far and how long I walk. I find it motivational. 

6. Walk without a sound track. I can't concentrate when listening to music and I can't focus at all if there is a narrative playing. It's nice to hear the birds, the wind, and the horns of vehicles bearing down you anyway. And just how do people keep those damn earbuds in?

7. Walk a variety of routes. I had four circuits, each of about three to four miles mapped out from my office back in the day. (If you are used to walking a circuit in a certain direction, try reversing course sometime - it's a whole new world.) If I had a meeting I could walk to and back from, I did. 

8. Walk on the weekends and walk on vacation. Make your days off work as pleasurable as possible by walking. Weekends are a good time to head to a park to walk - or snowshoe, cross-country ski or bicycle for a little variety. Books of walking tours are available for most cities and walking (or hiking) vacations are the best. You'll never want to see a country from the windows of a tour bus again once you've seen it while walking or biking.

9. Walk for your mental health as much as your physical health. No matter how busy, no matter how uninspired, no matter how lousy the weather, I am always glad when I get back that I walked. My problems are often solved, new ideas hatched, and my mood improved. Or maybe I should say, walk for your family's and co-workers' sakes.

10. Walk how you want to walk. Ignore any of this advice. Just walk.

Original post January 1, 2012
Revision February 26, 2017

It's OK to remove me first

Now given time to read the news in a bit more depth, two articles caught my eye:

Morbid ‘boomer remover’ coronavirus meme only makes millennials seem more awful, NY Post, 3/19/20 and ETHICAL DILEMMAS: WHOSE LIVES SHOULD WE SAVE? Los Angeles Times via Minnepolis Star Tribune.

The second piece, about the potential ethical decisions which will need to be made should medical resources not be sufficient to treat all Covid-19 patients who need them, asked pointedly:

Three patients — a 16-year-old boy with diabetes, a 25-year-old mother and a 75-year-old grandfather — are crammed into a hospital triage tent and struggling to breathe. Only one ventilator is left. Who gets it?

I don't wish to weigh in on whether the 16-year-old or 25-year-old should get the ventilator, but I hope it would go to one of them, not Grandpa.

At age 67, I am a boomer. I am in good health. I have a lot of things on my bucket list I still want to do. I would like to live long enough to see great-grandchildren and to watch my current grandsons transition into adulthood. I want to continue playing with friends, writing a little, and reading books. I still contribute in small ways to society through volunteering and charitable giving. I enjoy life. I'm a pretty happy camper.

But should I find myself in triage with patients younger than I am, I hope I have the courage and mental capacity to say, "Please, treat them first." This boomer would not resent be removed.

I have always told my children that should I fall off a cliff and die while hiking, know that I have gone happy. I can think of no worse fate than being in a nursing home with a couple tubes stuck in me just waiting for the end. I am by no means suicidal - I exercise, watch my weight, try to eat sensibly, and have even been practicing social isolation and hand washing. But I know my end will come.

Life has in no way cheated me. I have loved and been loved, adventured, traveled, worked, won awards, played, served, written, and read enough for three lifetimes. I am grateful that this life has been so generous to me. 

You can remove this boomer should the need arise without guilt. All I ask is that if you get the respirator, make the remainder of your life one of kindness, generosity, and adventure.

Traveling the blue highways

Methodist Church, Menlo, Iowa

Image source

On the old highway maps of America, the main routes were red and the back roads blue. Now even the colors are changing. But in those brevities just before dawn and a little after dusk - times neither day nor night - the old roads return to the sky some of its color. Then, in truth, they carry a mysterious cast of blue, and it's that time, the pull of the blue highway is strongest, when the open road is a beckoning, a strangeness, a place where a man can lose himself. William Least Heat-Moon, Blue Highways.

I spent the day yesterday on blue highways coming home to Minneapolis from Kansas City. I had been in the KC area visiting my daughter, her family, and my sister since last Friday. As news of the Corona virus became worse and worse, I decided to end my visit and my hiking trip in the Missouri Ozarks with the grandsons a few days early.

But there was nothing, really, to rush home for. My calendar was empty since a dentist appointment, Rotary meetings, subbing jobs, and even volunteer work were all canceled. With the YMCA, public library, movie theaters, and restaurants all shut down, I recognized I'd be spending a lot of time in my house. So I extended my trip by a few hours. I figured it would also be easier to avoid crowds in Skidmore, Missouri, than in Des Moines, Iowa.

Both my daughter's family and I live only a few miles from Interstate 35. When I want to get to KC or back in a hurry, it's less than a seven hour drive.

Yesterday it took eleven hours. I got off the interstate and wandered through Weston, St Joseph, Mound City, Skidville, Maryville, Bedford, Corning, Menlo, Stuart, Panora, Jefferson, Eagle Grove, Goldfield, Rowan, and Belmond before finally heading back to 35 just south of the Minnesota border. It was an overcast, rainy sky and spring had not yet sprung, but I loved my day spent on these blue highways. A few observations:

You actually have to drive on blue highways. Hills, curving roads, reduced speed limits, slow moving vehicles make this an actual driving experience. No setting the cruise control and mentally drifting off. This kind of driving is actually fun.

The economic diversity is in your face. Along these small roads were trailer homes sitting within a mile of million dollar mansions. Yards full of rusted cars and other junk were as common as homes with manicured lawns and brick entrance gate pillars. It made me wonder if we are all the same species.

Small towns are fascinating. I don't think I drove through one town that did not have an interesting building or two - an old hotel, strange church, ornate municipal building, or towering courthouse. Most of these buildings were old, of course, but were reminders of when rural life was more vibrant. Sadly, much of these old towns also look awfully worn down.

Paper road maps still work. I needed reading glasses instead of sun glasses for my drive yesterday. 

You can't go home again. I lived in Menlo, Iowa and taught at the high school in Stuart, Iowa, from 1976 to 1978. The old houses (decrepit even in the 70s) I lived in were gone. My wing of the school where I taught was gone. The gas station I moonlighted in was gone. However, the movie theater in the small town of Greenfield where I remember watching the first Star Wars movie was still there - although closed because of the pandemic.

Dollar Stores and Caseys dominate the retail choices. Nearly evey small town had one of these junk food dealers. No wonder there is a rise in obesity in this country.

The country is still a beautiful place. Even in its early spring bareness, the countryside of Missouri and Iowa was stunning in its own way. Countless rivers, streams, parks, and just small stands of trees combined with rolling hills made the drive a living National Geographic special. (OK, maybe that's a little over the top - but it was pretty.)

I don't know the fate of rural America. The towns look and feel old, along with the residents. It looks to be economically struggling. Family farms are being replaced by corporations. But driving it is still a fine experience. Next time you're going somewhere, try leaving the interstate.