Ode to the Morning Mile

Sunday morning. A cooling breeze seems like advance notice that autumn will arrive in two weeks. I am inspired to get out this morning at 7:30 -- well, to be honest it wasn't the glorious sunshine or the lovely breeze. It was my bathroom scale giving me notice that I'd gained #@$%&**! pounds without even trying. So I took off toward the ocean intentionally leaving my iPod on the kitchen table. The sound of the sea mixing with the rustling of the leaves -- like a taffeta skirt -- well, that's perfect music.

I walked with the dog walkers; the dogs attempt to grab my ankle. The walkers nod a greeting. All the morning walkers without four legged companions, however, do not fail to say "good morning" or "hello" or the like. At any other time of day (except an occasional evening) no one who passes you on these streets will say "hey" to you. The younger exercisers run by; older exercisers hold hands, and stop along their way to peer at houses or literally smell the flowers. Nice. Older though I be, I try to keep pace with a memory of a 15 minute mile. I was in my 40's then. Earlier than that I'd run/jog. I wasn't awfully good at it -- the running thing. Oh, I did okay on a tread mill; on the street I'd look like Groucho Marx half way home. These days I am lucky to have a delightful walking partner a few evenings a week. Paulette and I keep a comfortable pace, and usually walk the prescribed 30 minutes -- often an hour. I believe I walk faster when I'm alone; perhaps I can't walk and talk at the same time. But it's great fun to talk with Paulette. And to laugh. A morning walk will have to be an "also" not an "instead of."

I pass Lynch Park; here there is lots of green and a playground for the kids; two beach areas; an amphi-theatre, and a round about walk with great views of the ocean.
But I'm heading for the lighthouse a bit further on. All of this is the best of the town I live in. I'd say "now," but really it is "again." We had a great old house here "back in the day." It required lots of love and we happily gave it all we could. We lived in it for 13 years; I had to sell it then. I moved my family to Brookline, MA where -- after a year and a half of difficulty -- I was hired to be the Artistic Director of a children's theater company. We lived in Brookline for six years in two different apartments. Then I moved to an attic in Jamaica Plain. At this point I was living alone. Huge adjustment. I was in J.P. for 9 years. I got very lucky and found a sweet apartment back in Beverly where we'd had our house. I lived there for 4 years; commuting to my job in Boston (the theater job had run its course). So that was a new experience, traveling with the commuters every day. In February of 2002, I moved to Fort Lee, NJ, and, after several really trying months, I got a job in Manhattan. I won't go into the circumstances of why and how I moved to New Jersey, or why and how I moved back to Beverly in the summer of 2006. Typing it here, all this moving around really sounds like the marathon it was. But Beverly holds a good deal of history for me and memories of the happy days raising my kids and creating/operating my own theatre company. And it is a coastal town with wonderful views of the ocean.

I walk back the same way I came. It's Labor Day weekend and folks who live close to the ocean are packing their cars to spend the weekend at other places close to the ocean. The various floatation devices being tossed into suvs are a dead give-away. A car with New Hampshire plates is unpacking enough equipment to camp out for a weekend, never mind the day. Grills, coolers, baskets, play stuff for the kids. Even a small tent. Maybe a party is in the works? I drive the route later on in the morning to see how many miles I walked and how fast. It turned out to be 3.6 miles round trip, and I walked it in a bit under 80 minutes. That translates to 22 minutes a mile. A bit slower than I'd like; I think a 20 minute mile is possible for me. So before the snows fly, and while the last of summer and the glorious New England autumn provides mornings like the one today, I'll throw myself out of the door in the a.m. and chase the 20 minute mile and perhaps a four mile route. It will be nice to be greeted each morning by perfect strangers; to see the sun bounce off the calm inlets; to feel new possibility with every mile; and to give less work to my overly enthusiastic bathroom scale. I never was a "morning person." Over the years, I had no choice but to get up earlier and earlier to arrive at various jobs on time. So perhaps I've become a morning person. Walking the walk on quiet streets, with air so fine and the sea so calming -- yes, I'll do this again.