Not the Smartest Thing I've Ever Done . . .

Decided to stretch my legs on Saturday, so I went on a 15-mile walk, from my home in American University Park to the King Street metro station in Alexandria, Virginia. A little bit about my hike, then about my stupidity.

It's Memorial Day weekend, and that means tourists, families, flag waving, and Rolling Thunder. I walked down Wisconsin Avenue, through Georgetown, to Washington Harbor. Pleasure craft (bikinis and beer) were parked four deep, tour boats were whisking out-of-towners (mostly families) out for an excursion on the Potomac. It looked like a couple thousand people were jammed into the harborside, including a gaggle of middle age men and women all sporting Hawaiian shirts. Everyone was having a good time.

I then walked to the Lincoln Memorial and the Vietnam Memorial. Parked on the far western reaches of the Mall were thousands of motorcycles, nearly all of them Harley-Davidsons, and contingents of riders, the Rolling Thunder folks, buzzing up and down Constitution Avenue. (Over on Twenty-Third Street, across from the State Department there were several big vans that had carried the motor bikes to Washington; so obviously not everyone wearing "'Nam" patches from far off California or New York, had biked in). Quite a few bikes sported big American and MIA (Missing-In-Action) flags. Lots of patriotism, black T-shirts, battle patches, and more than the usual amount of facial hair, leathery skin, tattoos, and pot bellies.

A panoramic view from the World War II Memorial westward toward the Lincoln Memorial gave a glimpse of the tens of thousands of people, many from immigrant families, out on the Mall, enjoying the day. I then walked past the Tidal Basin, the Jefferson Memorial, then across the Fourteenth Street Bridge and the Potomac River to Virginia. I then went southward on the bike and hiking path that takes people all the way down to Mt. Vernon. A lovely walk on the hiking path, except for the intrusion of nature. Swarms of gnats, about every hundred yards, greeted hikers, and must have caused havoc for bikers, many of whom surely inhaled their share of little fuzzy insects.

I stopped for a few moments at the base of National Airport's glidepath. There a couple hundred people, mostly kids and their fathers, were gathered to plane spot. Every ten minutes or so a plane would zoom perhaps a 100 feet above us as it approached the landing strip. Great fun, I guess, if you are a nine-year-old kid. (Yes, the official name of the airport is Reagan National, but no one consulted me on the name change, so I, like many other old Washingtonians who see no greatness and find little to celebrate in the name"Reagan," will simply call it "National.")

Now, let me confess about my stupidity. Since it was quite muggy on Saturday, I decided to begin my walk around 5:00 p.m. This was a lovely time of day, and by 7:00 p.m. the sun setting over the Mall and the Potomac was gorgeous. But it got far less gorgeous once I was south of National Airport. The walking path has no lighting, it follows the contours of the highway, but in many places, it is enveloped by trees and bushes. In many places for the next two miles of walking it was surreal: I can barely see the pathway (although it has a yellow dividing line for the bike lanes), I am blinded by on coming automobile headlights, and although I can't miss hearing the roar of Rolling Thunder contingents as they head off to some bars on King Street, I'm feeling pretty much alone on the pathway. (My friend Rich later reminded me that there have been assaults and even a murder in that area). Another factor, even in near pitch dark, about 8 or ten cyclist drove past, and I had to yell at them to make sure they saw me. Stupid.

Anyhow, by ten o'clock, five hours after I started, I ended up at the Alexandria King Street metro, took the train home, and tired, thirsty, and with aching feet, enjoyed a Negra Modelo and nacho chips at Guapo's Restaurant at the Tenleytown Metro stop, just a few blocks from home.

Good Advice from a Veteran Walker

My friend Katherine and I had coffee this morning over at Starbuck's (crammed with moms and little kids), to discuss my upcoming hike. She'd done the Hadrian's Wall hike, had a pleasant experience, and had good advice about how I should prepare my tired, old body for the rigors of a 17-day walk. Best advice: get prepared for uphill climbing, 'cause there will be a lot of it. The easiest thing for us city types would be to climb up the escalators at Metro stops. Pretty convenient, because they are usually broken or stuck. The Tenleytown metro (my usual stop) and the DuPont Circle metro stop have nice long inclines -- the kind that tourists have to stop for, gawk, and take pictures (Ah, tourists).

Second piece of advice: stretch, stretch, stretch. Not just the usual Achilles heel, thighs, but also the foot muscles. Nothing worse that twisting you foot and coming up with a bum ankle. So, I'll go on the Web and look for the appropriate exercises.

We had a good talk, and I was somewhat reassured that, yes, I could do this afterall.

Summer's heat is bursting upon us in Washington, so I am going to try to be careful with my exercise regimen. I'll go out very early in the morning or (as is the case today) very late in the afternoon. Right after this blog entry, I'll go for maybe a 10-mile walk, and stop halfway in between for dinner. Dress codes being what they are today, no one should mind if I'm sweaty and somewhat disheveled. But to be on the safe side, I'll perhaps take along a bow tie.

Viewing City Life One Step at a Time

Most of the time, while driving, I whiz past familiar landmarks without a chance to see what they really look like. I prefer keeping my eye on the road, and the idiot who is driving in front or behind me. Walking gives a new perspective. One of my favorite walks is along Embassy Row, that stretch of Massachusetts Avenue, N.W., in Washington between DuPont Circle and the National Cathedral. Leafy boulevard, beautiful homes, and a great variety of embassies and diplomatic stations. By walking, rather than driving, I get to see up close the atomic clock in front of the Vice-President's residence at the Naval Observatory, see the completion of the iron security fence at the Iraq Embassy, talk with the guy who for years has stood outside the Vatican Embassy to protest against priestly pedophilia. On Massachusetts Avenue, I see the tiny diplomatic outposts of Pacific Ocean countries, the gutted interior of the to-be-refurbished Brazilian consulate, the shuttered embassy of some Middle Eastern country (probably Iran) out of diplomatic favor with the U.S., and deer munching placidly on greens as they emerge from the Rock Creek underpass.

But then, there is the seamier side of on foot exploration: Rockville Pike, that stretch of ugly commercialism north of the Beltway extending toward Rockville and beyond. It is now undergoing major construction, making its unending stretch of big box retailers, storefront ethnic restaurants and tanning salons even more banal. I did a 10-mile walk up Rockville Pike on Saturday; it was most unpleasant. Noisy, full of traffic, honking horns, and assaults on the senses. After 10 miles, I took the metro subway home, happy to be back in leafy, even relatively quiet, upper Northwest Washington. I can't wait for the English countryside, without a hint of Jersey barriers.

I partially listened to my friend Katherine, who suggested to prevent blisters, I bandage up my toes before walking. Katherine has done the Hadrian's Wall walk a few years ago, and I trusted her judgment on such matters. For the first time, I'm wearing my new hiking boots for a fairly long walk, 10 miles. Trouble was, I wrapped my little toe, but didn't wrap the tip of it, and after more than 21,000 steps, it formed a blister. Maybe I'll be a little more careful next time. Still need to face the critical question: can I walk 10, 12, 14 miles, day after day. Stay tuned.

These Boots Are Made for Walkin'

I went over to my local Hudson Trail Outfitters to stock up on supplies, particularly a good pair of boots. Got some Asolo TPS 520 GVs--expensive, rugged boots that actually look like they're built for hiking. I was surprised how many so-called hiking boots look like running shoes on steroids, with lots of nylon mesh. I wanted real-looking boots. These Asolo bad boys should do the trick. I've been gradually breaking them in with two-, three-mile walks, although, surprisingly they need little breaking in, and though they look very heavy, they are lightweight.

Stocked up on all kinds of hiking accoutrements. Most important items purchased: the right underwear. I found that out the hard way: 7 miles of walking, wearing regular undies, rubbing the same spot the wrong way a gillion times over, leads to nasty sore spots. Say no more on that subject.

I'll be packing light, however. Wear one outfit, wash it out; wear a second outfit, then wash it out. Repeat. Will probably only take one dress shirt, one sport coat, and one bow tie.

Fourteen and a Half Miles on Saturday

The first leg of the coast-to-coast walk is 14 miles, followed by a second day of 14.5 miles. I used to get tired riding in an automobile for that distance. I'd walked 3 and 4 miles before, even did 4.5 miles from my home to the university, but nothing like 14 miles. So I've been stretching out my walks, mostly on Saturdays, and they will intensify once the school year is over in late May. Recently, I walked from upper northwest Washington, past the Washington Cathedral, down Wisconsin Avenue, through Georgetown, down by the Potomac, the length of the national Mall, over to Congress, then south to the Nationals baseball park. That's about 7 miles; then took the metro home.

But more recently, I've been increasing the distance. Last weekend, I did 14.5 miles (and lived to tell about it). For those of you who know Washington, my hike went thusly: from my home west to Westmoreland Circle (Massachusetts and Western Aves.), then Western to Chevy Chase Circle (Western and Connecticut), down Connecticut to DuPont Circle (Connecticut and Massachusetts). Stopped for brunch at Circa Restaurant in DuPont Circle, then up 18th Street through Adams-Morgan, eventually over to Connecticut, then north and then the reversal of my trip.

This leisurely excursion, with several rests and lunch, took over five hours. It was on city pavement, and not over hill and dale, as I expect in my real hike. So I'm sure the real hike will be slower, but certainly not as rough on the feet as pavement. The critical question: can my ancient body recover after a 14 mile hike, and do it all over again--for 16 more days straight.

One of the joys of walking in Washington during the springtime is to see all the beautiful, monumental, and historical sites, with flowers in bloom, tourists everywhere, and the city alive with energy and excitement. On Saturday, I went past thousands of Avon Cancer Awareness walkers going the other way. Probably 98 percent of them were women, decked out in pink hats, pink ribbons, pink shoes; it was the first of two days of hiking for them, and from the looks of many, their enthusiasm would soon be overtaken by the reality of blisters and sore bodies. The walk is a two-day affair; I can't imagine what they would feel like on Sunday.

You're Gettin' Old, You're Gettin' Fat!

Okay, if I have to rationalize a trip to England, 17 days on the trail, and 190 miles altogether, I would simply call it a neat adventure. But right behind that answer lies the real one: I've gotten old, fat, and lazy. Time to toughen up what little I have left in the way of muscles and endurance.

I've already started losing weight, about 8 pounds so far; but certainly hope to lose many more. What do I now weigh? None of your business; I'm too embarrassed to say. Suffice it to say that I'll keep you posted on what I've lost, and leave it at that.


Two random, but interested factoids. In a book that I'm reading, entitled The Laws that Shaped America, a contingent of women suffragist march 250 miles from New York City to Washington in March 1913 to protest at the inauguration of the new president, Woodrow Wilson. It took them 15 days. I can imagine them all: long skirts, big heavy boots that laced up (or buttoned up) to the tops of their ankles. So, why am I even nervous about doing 190 miles in 17 days. Should be a piece of cake.

The second little factoid comes from another new book, the American Lion, which describes President Andrew Jackson as 6 feet 2 inches tall, weighing 140 pounds. One hundred and forty pounds! He was four inches taller than me, and I can never imagine being 140 pounds.

Anyway, this little trek to England will also be an attempt to toughen up, slim down, and clear my head.