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longwalker

walking has saved me

.

i walk away my heart disease and my heartache

the sidewalk my cradle

the canal bank my oasis

as I grow and shrink mountains

and press a metronomic message onto the earth

.

when I walk I fly above the haze

brain singing with insurge of nutrient

delivered by my quickened pulsing bloodstream

.

every walk is two journeys

the lesser’s destination is perhaps a convenience store

or a bus stop or the remaining distance that will exceed 10000 steps for the day

the greater’s destination

is fulfillment

of a lifetime

mission to follow

the sacred mandate:

keep going keep going keep going keep going

the distance between 32nd st slightly north of thomas on the east side of the street/and the mcdonald’s slightly south of indian school on the west side of 32nd st/is exactly one mile

after you walk across 32nd st and head north/you will pass an apartment complex that touts its “sparkling pool” but beware/for another sign that says “newly renovated” has been up for over a year

you will walk past what once was a church and what now seems to purport to be/a sanctuary for people who are bent but not broken

and past the southbound bus stop at clarendon/you will approach another apartment complex/one that once had a “now leasing” banner with a number to call/but the banner is gone and since i once lived there it amuses me to think/that a resident driven to enragement by inattention to such issues as pest control and mold management has torn down the banner

and walking past that artifact of pestiferous memory you now approach the fabled golden arches

and it’s pleasantly slightly warm being early/and your hunger has nicely gestated/and you feel slightly druglessly buzzed

melllow with three ells

with a mild case of the munchies

Today Tracy M gave me a shirt and a growler, found in this odd ensemble:

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Over a year ago I joined the walking program, managed by Tracy, at Devonshire Senior Center.  Some of us walk indoors at the Center, in a room with a jukebox, a piano, and a stage with steps up and down on its sides. Some of us walk outdoors on the mileage-measured sidewalk at nearby Los Olivos Park. I often do both, as I did today: a measured mile (3 laps) at the Park, and at least three miles (I did 65 laps, and it takes at least 15 laps to do a mile in this room) indoors. Tracy took my numbers at her desk. Here she is, uncharacteristically without her glasses on:

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She truly and literally walks the walk. And she is Fitness personified, ultra-lean yet not gaunt. She is a Perfect Fit for her job, and her encouragement and steadfastness enable many of us to step lively, whether we be 35, 63 or 90. Whenever I despair of the state of our country and its so-called “leadership,” a thought of what happens at the community level, with such as Tracy and her generously giving sistren and brethren helping us in good health, always cheers me up.

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SHARKS: Poet and shark enthusiast Bernard Schober, whose nom de guerre is The Klute, has in the last five weeks commissioned me to illustrate four poems of his. I put the finishing touches on the last of them yesterday, and tomorrow I’ll hand over the originals and be handed payment of two kinds. I’m quite grateful for the work, and tickled that I got to be Ralph Steadman to his Hunter S. Thompson. (Not that I have exclusive Steadmanship; he has other Steadmans on call, including our superhero friend Russ “Speed Cameron” Kazmierczak.) I worked really hard on these drawings, and a big motivator was a wish to match the quality of the poetry.

SHANKS: “Shank’s Mare” is another way of saying “on foot.” I now own a Fitbit, a device that records and stores my steps per day along with other biometrics.

THANKS: My daughter Kate gave me an early Father’s Day gift in the form of an all-day pass to ComiCon Phoenix on Sunday, the 30th of May. The cake for that icing was that she and I got a lot of quality time together, including eats and a DVD afterward. She is great comic-convention, meal and movie company, and my gratitude to her for that special day continues.

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HANKS: I now own the DVD of ROAD TO PERDITION, and this morning watched it, freezing the frame now and then to sketch the principals, including Tom Hanks, who got first billing. I am warming up for my next post. Please stay tuned!

Image

the halfscore score

1: starting line

once upon an april
once upon cottonwood
once upon some racers

there was an event
of four subevents
marathon/half marathon/10k/2mile

and the people who came to race
were physically from willowbranch to peterbilt
and psychically from timid to attila

there was no starting gun for the 10k
just a convivial starting voice counting down
and when he got down to go we went

2: water waiters and chipper cheerers

volunteers in matching shirts and grins
dispensed water from the getgo
and walkers like me had time for a friendly passing word

hydration greases the wheels and cools the engine
but absorption by the body maxes at 8oz/15min
you don’t want your tummytank to be a sloshing

and so I was glad to see lots of stations
and sensible small cups and plenty of dropboxes for empties
races have made strides since my heyday

friends family and wellwishers lined the course at good places
three ladies seemed to be dispensing confetti
from a cottonwood tree & I thanked them

3: the theory of relative distance

there is about a mile and a half between start line and 2mi marker
about four miles between the 2mi and the 4mi marker
and about an eon of purgatory between there & the finish line

4: how it went from my end

i woke this morning with a twingey knee
thought rats this ain’t the movie i signed up for
dressed and readied nonetheless

got to the race via sweetheart transportation
got numbered got lootbagged got greeted by curtis
got hydrated got excited got started

was in a tight pack of walkers for a while
passing being passed keeping occasional pace
with a compadre or compadrette

the pack unclumped in a mile or so
i settled into a brisk but unfoolhardy fastwalk
not passing not being passed

little uphills and downhills took us to dead horse ranch park
and the unflats made me want to jog a little but i held back
until i couldn’t but i made the couldn’ts brief

there was a loop that some racers cheated past
didn’t matter; to each their own; when i looped
my fellow frontdesker and racer nancy saw me and helloed

there were live horses and riders at dead horse ranch
and i had to wonder what the horses would think
if they knew the name of where they were

more water more goodfeeling energy more limberstride loosening
jogged a little ran a very little
got airborne now and then for metaphor’s sake

another loop and a long climb through campground
a sign seemed to say norvs beyond this point
and i hoped the norv was not a vicious creature

of course it meant no recreational vehicles
and indeed the upper campground was festooned with tents
and smilers and squinters and dogs witnessed our phenomenon

on the way down i saw a fellow from cottonwood rec center
walking for him is a struggle few of us can imagine
but he has a lion’s heart and walks and walks and walks

a guy about my age and i kept passing each other
jogging and tiring with unmatching crests and troughs
he kept me from going crazy & breaking into a run

home stretch
my dear denise waves and smiles about an eighthmile from the finish
she takes a picture i will cherish

fast nice finishline with the racemeter reading 1:39 and change
handed a cup of water feeling giddy & good
in a warm broth of modest glory

Photo by Denise Huntington