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Slowly Walking These Days
Seeing the beauty in a slower pace
Recently I’ve been forced to slow down my walking pace.
No, not because it’s almost summer in the Northeast, and you can cut the humidity with a knife.
No, not because construction has forced funnels of people on sidewalks where no funnels existed before.
The reason is that I have strained my hamstring for the first time in my 35-plus years of existence.
It turns out the word “hamstrung,” which I always heard in the context of “a lack of _______ hamstrung them,” is a literal expression dating back to the torture method of cutting a person or animal’s hamstring and thus crippling them.
Ouch.
Now I am fortunate in that it was a very mild strain. I never realized how quickly I walked through life until I temporarily couldn’t walk as fast anymore.
We are now on week three of the hamstring strain, and the slowed-down pace has been a trip for the senses. Listening to the musicians play on the street. (Look, Philly ain’t New Orleans, but we have plenty of street musicians every day.) Smelling halal meat from the food carts near my work, spotting a penny on the ground, or a flower poking out of a crack in the sidewalk. These are all things that I have experienced more deeply due to my slower pace.
Now, I’ll admit, it hasn’t been all smell-the-roses. For example, life was little bit more interesting than usual today in that I got soaked when I couldn’t outrun a thunderstorm or out-jump the seven puddles I encountered due to said thunderstorm.
However, in the end, it’s all good. Life sometimes forces you to slow down a little. I’m just trying to make the most of it.