road to nowhere
Let me admit this right away: I hate everything about stepping on a treadmill. Inevitably, I end up singing the line “We’re on a road to nowhere” as I check my laces and set myself up on the tiny continuous track. I feel like a hamster on a wheel, stepping forward in earnest only to find the same view stretched out in front of me, no scenery change and no discernible end in sight. I do well when I have benchmarks, mile markers, fence posts and landmarks to guide my way. I enjoy noticing details I haven’t spotted before – a carefully crafted portico fronting an abandoned building, a new shock of color as flowers bloom and plants take root for the season, a freshly painted sign or an updated window display at a local store.
Most of the enjoyment I receive from walking around downtown (besides the physical high after hoofing it to the canal and back, or completing an entire loop of the downtown Indy retail district) is being able to sharpen my reflexes and be in the moment, observant and in tune with the city. It’s a rough time of year for me, January. I feel cooped up and unable to find that contentment that easily comes with the fresh air and exploration of being outside for any length of time. Sure, it’s possible to brave the weather, the cold and damp; but it’s less about enjoying the experience when you’re whisked off your feet by the wind tunnel that develops between buildings, constant sniffling, brisk headache-inducing breezes and lack of sunlight and warmth. It’s like living life in grayscale.
So for now, with uncompromising discipline and a little disappointment, I keep stepping up and riding a rubber loop until the weather breaks. I look at this as a battle of wills – who will win? The woman or the machine? Perhaps this is the magic that springtime brings: pops of Pantones poking through a dull landscape, pockets of sunshine streaming from the sky, thunderous booms and restorative rain. I’m looking for a little bit of light to cling to and an outlet to burn off energy while hope springs.
Most of the enjoyment I receive from walking around downtown (besides the physical high after hoofing it to the canal and back, or completing an entire loop of the downtown Indy retail district) is being able to sharpen my reflexes and be in the moment, observant and in tune with the city. It’s a rough time of year for me, January. I feel cooped up and unable to find that contentment that easily comes with the fresh air and exploration of being outside for any length of time. Sure, it’s possible to brave the weather, the cold and damp; but it’s less about enjoying the experience when you’re whisked off your feet by the wind tunnel that develops between buildings, constant sniffling, brisk headache-inducing breezes and lack of sunlight and warmth. It’s like living life in grayscale.
So for now, with uncompromising discipline and a little disappointment, I keep stepping up and riding a rubber loop until the weather breaks. I look at this as a battle of wills – who will win? The woman or the machine? Perhaps this is the magic that springtime brings: pops of Pantones poking through a dull landscape, pockets of sunshine streaming from the sky, thunderous booms and restorative rain. I’m looking for a little bit of light to cling to and an outlet to burn off energy while hope springs.
Comments