Showing posts with label walking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label walking. Show all posts

Friday, February 12, 2021

Flashback 1982 or thereabouts

 I just spent three days in the mountains with my older son, his wife and my grandson.

I was there to let them take the odd walk, have time off (or time out) from the little one and in general enjoy not having – or being able – to do my normal activities, tasks, work!

 

There were many bonuses, meals put on the table in front of me without my having to lift a finger, sun every single day (those of you who also live around Lake Leman will understand me very well. I can deal with confinement, I can deal with no social life to speak of, but having to deal with constant gray days – starting to be very wearing!).

 

The main bonus was of course being able to interact with my grandson daily. Sometimes he would come down for an hour or two, sometimes I would go up. When the parents went for a hike one morning I decided that we too should take a walk. Gathered up the recycling and walked the some 500 meters to discard that then go to the small village store. Getting to the recycling bin was fine, but then he wanted to be carried (he is only 20 months) and he is too heavy for me. I caved for about 10 meters then put him back down again. He decided that that was just not on and had a mini temper tantrum.

 

Flashback to when his father was about 4 or 5. We were visiting my parents as was the rest of the family and my brother decided one Saturday afternoon that we should take a walk. Great for the whole family, except my grandson’s father (my son), who had always refused to walk anywhere. My brother assured me that he would, I replied, it’s on your head and sure enough we hadn’t gone a quarter of a mile, but what he had to carry his nephew.

 

Funny that said son has turned out to be a real hiker!

 


Alps in the Valais in Switzerland

 

 

 

Monday, March 7, 2016

Out walking


Two of my favorite words: add “mountain” to them and I really don’t need many more, o.k. Love could also join the group.

So many possible combinations:
Love being out walking… in the mountains.
Walking out in the mountains.
Love the mountains
Love walking
Love walking outside!

And yesterday finally managed it – a walk outside that is. And if not in the mountains, I could see glimpses of Mont Blanc and the Jura’s when the clouds lifted and the light shifted.

It has been some two months since I have had the necessary combination to have a medium-length walk, i.e. not too cold; not raining or snowing; able to wear my contacts (better stability than tri-focals whilst walking); time and energy. Was wearing my sling, but this time it didn’t stop me.

A lovely Sunday walk is a precious thing!



Tuesday, February 23, 2016

“Comme d’habitude” or


As one has the habit of doing.

Sometimes there are phrases in one of the three languages that I use on a fairly regular basis that fit better than any translation that I could undertake in another: comme d’habitude is one of these. It can be either slightly pejorative as in “she didn’t get dressed until 10 – as was her habit”, “he showed up again late for work, as was his want”,  “they went to the movies yet again last Saturday night – never doing anything out of the mold”, etc.

It can also though denote stability or, in my current case, a wonderful state of affairs where one returns to one’s habits!

As I can finally dress myself on the days where I don’t need a shower or shampoo I am finally free to follow my normal (another way of expressing “comme d’habitude”) schedule. And today all the criteria were met for me to finally walk up to the village as was my want before the accident: I could dress myself in a timely manner (without waiting until 10 or later); it was warm enough for the cape that I have to envisage walking outside; it wasn’t raining although overcast and, most importantly, the phrase “comme d’habitude” ran through my head like a leitmotif. Habits can be wonderful.

It took me longer than it used to: what is it about a seemingly minor accident that affects one’s whole system? But oh the joy of walking into my local bakery on my own two feet, sit down to my usual table, see my coffee buddies and pick up my mail – as usual.

OK that was enough for the morning, if not perhaps for the day, and I didn’t refuse the offer of a lift home. Still comforting to know that soon “comme d’habitude” will be simply that – as usual or according to my normal pattern.

https://theslowstitchingmovement.wordpress.com/2014/11/23/losing-clutter-gaining-creativity-and-walking-the-walk/

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

To be able to walk is a privilege



Village flowers

According to my mother, I walked well at 13 months, but wouldn’t let go of the table/skirt/anything within reach until a few weeks later: I was already tall and obviously the fall towards the ground was too much.
 
As a young child, one ran, one walked, one skipped and hopped with no thought of how or why.
School started and as much as I hate to use the expression “my generation wasn’t coddled”: no mom or dad taking us in the car, it didn’t matter how far, at a very tender age (6 in my case) we walked to school (my walk was probably just under a mile, but compared to my mother’s two-miles-in-the-snow, easy). We did that twice a day and as my siblings joined me (or not depending upon our friends), it became a game to see if we could walk all the way home after school on the middle white line (another relic from a past that’s long gone – it’s now difficult to sometimes cross the street, never mind walking any distance in the middle of it without putting oneself into mortal danger).

Lucky me: I grew up in Southern California, which meant that we were outdoors all day every day except for those brief periods of classes – and even then we still had P.E. (Physical Education) once a day. We continued to walk, run, skip and hop as well as adding skating (I’m going to really give away my age now: our first skates we had to hook on our shoes and then tighten with a key) biking and swimming. We were active. I still gave absolutely no thought to the process.

High school, university came and went – still walking and hiking – rock climbing was added.
As a young mother, I would fed my baby then go out for a jog before breakfast: once I had two I could at least take a long walk on Sundays, leaving them to their activities under my husband’s supervision.

When the younger son was 8 or 9, I was again able to take weekends and leave for the mountains, hiking was not something that my husband enjoyed (walking was o.k. as long as he wasn’t with anyone as he always felt conscious of holding people up: heart problems), but he was perfectly happy to play house husband and let me go. I realized that I was blessed, but not that I was privileged.

The first indication that walking is a privilege came when I was over 50: I was totally distracted reading papers whilst walking down my stair case and missed the last step entirely. Full force on one of my heels was sufficient to break it: 6 weeks of no foot on the ground. I began to realize the privilege we have of being able to walk.

Things went along that way for a while, until a trip to Prague: I didn’t see the small step (grey on grey in the middle of the square and I was busy looking up at the marvelous architecture), slipped off it and twisted my ankle badly enough to again have to have an open cast and no foot on the ground for another 6 weeks. I dealt with it thanks to the help of many friends: I was starting to really be cognoscente of the privileges.

Last year though really brought it home to me: three sprains throughout the year had me unable to do much hiking in the mountains at all.

So today, when we awoke to beautiful (finally) blue skies, I thought: it’s time. Off I went up to the ski station above the village and walked all the way back. What a wonderful activity: it’s such a blessing that I can again walk without too much thought.
What a privilege to be able to walk.


Cable car Les Marécottes to La Creusaz
Chalet at La Creusaz

 
Les Marécottes way down in the valley
    

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Reflections whilst out walking

 
A walk in the mountains

1.    That this blog should probably be split into several: could; should; won’t
2.    That this blog merits checking and re-writing: could’ve; should’ve; didn’t

First thoughts were on blogging itself: 
·      There are so many thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of blogs out there that one needs simply to pick a subject and do a search (avoiding actually writing “g_____ it”) + blog and you’ll come up with a plethora of authors.
·      There are as many styles as writers: fun, simple, serious, logical, rants
·      Writers have hundreds of reasons for blogging: a short list, which is by no means exhaustive
o   Many, like myself, simply because we have always written and still enjoy writing: I have written diaries, journaled, written letters home or to corporations or to … take your pick. No thought of ever being published, yet no thought of ever not writing.
o   Others, published authors, I might add such as my housemate, use it as an exercise in writing every morning
o   Others, for professional reasons – or turn blogging itself into a profession
o   Yet others, as a means of publishing their trip (be it one single trip, a family event or an ongoing events) or travels as to not have to send a dozen e-mails every time they come across free wi-fi, or a decent connection whilst in Timbuktu.
o   Some as a way of breaking into writing
o   Some, me again, as a way of allowing oneself to do another favorite hobby: in my case taking photos. If it’s not a blog directly about the photo I can take photos to illustrate the blog!
o   Whatever other reason you need that allows you to get an opinion, an experience, a wish out there.

·      There are many ways of following a blog: faithfully and in its entirety; sporadically; once.  I currently follow only three although I could easily spend all of every day reading blogs on a variety of subjects.  So for those of you who noticed that I forgot to put the links to the “doubly washed clothes” saga in my blog of yesterday:
o   My housemate’s husband, who moved to Europe after re-meeting her : a very highly entertaining look on how someone experiences Europe when they aren’t a twenty-year-old student . http://lovinglifeineurope.blogspot.ch/2014/05/the-laundry-saga-part-ii-or-no-i-dont.html
o   My housemate: a published writer who’s latest book “Murder in Poel” came out this spring. Check out her website for further details: http://www.donnalanenelson.com/                                                                                   
o   My younger son: although English isn’t his mother tongue, he has just written a couple of pretty fabulous blogs on his trek in Peru, which will have you feeling that you were actually with him. http://scottschmitzleuffen.blogspot.ch/2014/05/salkantay-trek.html?spref=fb
 
·      I follow these three by being lazy: most bloggers have figured out how to add an app to their blog that allows one to sign up to receive them via e-mail. This means that you get the blog once they have written it and don’t have to remember to go looking for it (my sister K is smarter than I and she has a whole section of blogs that she follows feeding in by SSR feeds…). The beauty of this system is that one can read them either when they come in, glance at them and decide that you don’t need to read it so hit the “delete” button with no one the wiser.  Personally I don’t mind the fact that I may be deleted, the statistics run by the site I use don’t seem that correct to me anyway: sometimes there are countries during a week that don’t show up on the monthly statistics; sometimes it reverts back to counting my having re-opened the blog for whatever reason; I don’t do ads (yet, now if there ever comes a day when I need more income, watch out readers).

So, go ahead, look for a subject that interests you, write or read as you choose: enjoy.

My thoughts throughout the walk wandered to the pleasures of being able to walk; not only the physical process (I tend to prefer going uphill as at my age, my heart and lungs seem to be preforming more efficiently than my knees or toes), but also the more metaphysical one.

Did I get my love of mountains and trees from my grandfather, a lumberjack once he emigrated to the USA at age 19? Or from the fact that my mother grew up in a log cabin in the middle of the woods in Wisconsin? Or from the many summer holidays that we spent camping in some of the world’s most beautiful National Parks?  I enjoy the beach, but it had better be a remote one at the bottom of a rocky gorge – the only “flat” beach that I ever liked was the one near my little sister, Pismo, CA. For whatever reason I thrive in the mountains: sleep better (which many explain as being an altitude thing), eat better (o.k. so I eat just fine anywhere, but that looked good) and in general a walk in the woods soothes and restores me.

Yes, I can see the Matterhorn from one point on my walk.


Today’s was no exception: overcast, I re-visited many spots that I have seen throughout the years. Not comparing myself to my younger son’s trek as the altitude difference was only 170 meters, but a decent walk nevertheless. The only negative – only half the 10’000 steps that one is supposed to get per day to be in good health. Oh no, do I have to take another walk this afternoon?

Bah, bah, black sheep; have you any wool? Nope I've been shorn.

So now I could go back and change the intro as it turns out that I only had two separate subjects. However, one of the privileges of blogging is being able to write however one wishes: the reader can decide whether or not to pursue so it’s all good “in my opinion” (a “The Good Wife” fan, I have learned not to proclaim anything as the truth, but rather as an opinion: Life is too short for lawsuits!

If only someone could create the possibility of adding smell as well as the photo: they were heavenly!