Having my own room was the best thing ever. BEST! THING! EVER! I woke up feeling refreshed and full of energy. It will be hard to go back to the dorms.
It was a pumpkin patch kind of day. The sun was warm, the breeze was cool, and the sky was a bright, clear blue.
Somehow, by lucky accident, I ended up on an alternative route as I navigated myself out of town in the darkness this morning. Because I turned left when everyone else turned right, I spent the day walking in utter solitude, save the occasional farmer in the fields. I was blissfully happy to be alone out there in that wide-open space and thankful to be feeling well again.
I passed my time in domestic daydreams about couches and fleece pants and magazines. Mostly my domestic fantasies are of the Sunday morning variety. Breakfast and coffee in a kitchen nook I don’t have at a cute tiled table I don’t own. Gardening in a backyard that isn’t mine yet. Reading a book in a hammock strung from the rafters of a back porch I’ll one day have. Often I daydream about this simple sort of life, of Brian and I and our dogs in a little house in the mountains. I’ll be glad to have that all again someday.
I sat down to take a break from walking and received the news that two of my favorite people have just been engaged to be married. It made my whole morning. And when I started walking again my daydreaming switched to that of buying a new dress and putting on makeup. That is the first time in my life I have fantasized about buying a dress. It’s amazing what three weeks in the same pair of sweaty clothes can do to a girl.
I walked and walked. I was feeling so good and the day was so beautiful. At each town I reached I decided I’d go one further. I put my iPod on and started singing aloud to the songs that played as I marched my way down the path.
I remembered a woman I’d seen once, years ago, taking an early-morning walk through my childhood neighborhood. My sister and I were on the porch and she’d walked past, music blasting in her ears, arms pumping in a crazy rhythm. My sister and I had cheered for her as she danced by.
What I remember about her the most is that she moved with such wild abandon. She just did not give a shit. I was at a point in my life where I most definitely gave a shit, and I don’t think I believed that I would ever feel so free. But as I walked down the roadside singing at the top of my lungs today I looked back and told my 13-year-old self that one day she certainly would.
Today I walked 23 miles (37.2 km).
But I am very sore now, so maybe I pushed it too far?