Reflections on walking

An occasional series on getting from here to there.

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I walk a lot. An hour a day is standard rain or shine, and I never take my cellphone, so it is great thinking time. I can almost convince myself -- and my husband -- that I'm not just walking, I'm working. I am planning, figuring things out. And it makes my dog happy.

From where I live, it takes me five minutes to drive to wonderful Elysian Park surrounding Dodger Stadium. Fern Dell in Griffith Park is 15 minutes by car. Dog-poop central, Runyon Canyon, is only 20 minutes. And Fryman Canyon, off Laurel Canyon Boulevard in the Valley, is half an hour, depending on traffic.

I used to divide my time among these places, putting the dog in the back of the car and driving to wherever I most felt like walking. I laughed as I drove by health clubs and saw people trudging on the treadmill. Sure you could shower afterward, but you never got anywhere.

Then gasoline got so darn expensive. Suddenly even Griffith Park was an issue. If I had to get in my car and drive, I might as well join a health club and pay to walk. Then I realized, from my 'hood I'd have to drive 20 minutes to the closest gym. I'd be paying twice and still have to come home and exercise the dog.

Finally it dawned on me. What if I walked from home? Out my door and then kept going? True, walking through my eclectic neighborhood would not be as beautiful as a park hike, but it would definitely reduce my carbon footprint and my gas money. And so, one morning, I left my car keys in the house and headed out. I had to tug Bo, looking confused, past the car's hatchback door. But then she was happy sniffing the new smells and peeing on my neighbors' fence posts.

The only problem was the hills. I live at the bottom of the steepest hill in Los Angeles. And there is no way to get from my house to Elysian Park without huffing up a couple of slopes that would be black diamonds at a ski resort. I thought I was in pretty good shape, but I quickly broke a sweat. Still, that was what this was all about, right? And then there were all the new things I began to see and do. After 12 years, I met "new" neighbors. I noticed changes in plantings and home improvements. I realized the house with the yard filled with junk had a method to the madness: round objects in one corner, animal items in another.