Just swingin’

I went for a walk tonight. 

I used to walk all the time. I'd walk the dog twice a day — faithfully. At least a mile each time. Usually more in the evening. Even in winter. In pitch black. Ok, I admit it, those were probably more like half- or three-quarter mike walks when you were out in minus-20-degree weather, dodging black ice. 

But in good weather, we put on our miles. 

Then Mocha got hurt, and it was impossible to walk. She'd be limping by the first block. 

About a year later, I discovered how much I enjoyed biking. Walking went by the wayside. 

Tonight, however, I didn't feel up to a ride. Maybe it was the nearly 30 miles I rode between Saturday and Sunday. Maybe it was the headache I woke up with that slid toward migraine this afternoon. Maybe it was the impending rain forecast on my weather app. Yes, I know I'd get wet either way, but I'm closer to home on a walk. 

So I opted for a walk around the neighborhood. It was nice. There are schools, parks and the Plover branch library all within a mile of my house. I turned down a side street and walked three blocks on the road before I realized there was a sidewalk on the other side. This part of Plover is very friendly to bikers and walkers. 

I passed a backyard with two identical swings hanging from a tree. On another block, I saw a lone swing. At the next block, I turned into the park and went straight for the swing set. A few pumps later, and my butt was lifting off the seat. I realized I was grinning. I tipped back, pointed my toes and felt the wind mess my hair. Then I slowed down gradually and finally jumped off, landing as gracefully as I could. (If you know me, you know I'm not terribly coordinated.)

Back on my walk, I reflected on my sudden urge to swing. Is that why I walked? Perhaps. Or maybe I just needed a reason to smile.