The experienced walker can take on the length of a marathon–26.2 miles–in less than eight hours. I took on an estimated six-plus miles in New York City the other day, and my feet are killing me.
I guess you could say 6.2 miles down and 26 to go.
Don’t invite me to a marathon, unless you want me to cheer from the stands.
Walking in the city is commonplace, and I’ve done it for years, but not that much. Normally my route circles a ten-block radius if I’m going to the theater, or a straight stroll if I am going to Lincoln Center.
Naturally not all streets in New York City are in a straight line. Some are circles or meander off to one side or another, which I learned while trying to go to First Avenue. I passed through the normal countdown of designated hot spots, including Park Avenue and Avenue of the Americas. Then I would take a right turn down a street or two and move down another avenue again.
I was dressed for Lincoln Center, so that meant “sensible” shoes instead of sneakers. My old faithful shoes, which had provided painless comfort forever, decided to rebel a quarter of the way to First Avenue, and I started feeling the telltale pains of a flayed blister. As I walked, I reminded myself that, to remedy the situation, I had to find something rare in the city: a place to sit down that didn’t involve buying anything. Not that I don’t want to support businesses, but it was between breakfast and lunch, and most places were not open yet, and the idea of tending my foot in a public building was rather icky.
As I limped along, I passed a fellow sucking on a joint and blowing fragrant clouds, which made their way past me. So I was gimping along and smelled of weed. Not a great start to a day out.
I finally found seating around a tree, within minutes of my destination, and applied a bandage. Fortunately I’m one of those pedestrians whose purse contains emergency everything. A park full of benches turned up two blocks later.
My plan was to visit a small shop in the thirties somewhere, and I found it. It wasn’t going to open for two more hours, and I couldn’t wait that long, because I had to return to familiar territory before my show was scheduled. So much for making a small stop for a small shop. Maybe next time, in the fall, after I’ve bought some comfy sneakers that can pass for sensible shoes to the untrained eye. One must try to be fashionable at Lincoln Center, even if your feet kill you. Otherwise I would need a taxi ride, where it doesn’t matter if you wear sensible shoes. Just shoes that protect you from a cab floor.
By the time I got home, after 14 1/2 hours, I felt as if I had used up my lifetime allotment of walking privileges, and feared I would never walk again. Fortunately my blister is healing, the legs are holding their own, and a thorough night’s sleep seems to have alleviated most of the physical damage from trying to navigate over six miles of the city.
It’s estimated that, when a person is urged to walk 10,000 steps daily, I walked under 13,000 steps, so I carried over 3,000 to today. I’m going to need them if I’m going to get those fashionable sneakers.
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