The Journey Home

People remain supportive but perplexed about this walking thing. One of the recent frequently-asked questions is, "If you walk to work, how do you get home?"

I'd like to tell you that I walk home every day in addition to walking to work, but I'm not a hero here. Although some people make me feel that way. When I told our family doctor about my walking goals, he puffed up with pride.

"That's fantastic!" he said. "You're motivating me! I really should go walking on my break today."

My doctor is awesome. For one, he's overweight. You know the expression, "Never trust a skinny chef?" By that logic, the expression should be, "Never trust a chubby doctor," right? But he struggles just like the rest of us. And he's a great doctor. He listens, is compassionate, and doesn't dole out pills like a lot of other doctors who are slaves to the pharmaceutical companies. And why would I judge him? Overweight people are everywhere. Take Governor Chris Christie. So what if he's overweight? He's making plenty of decisions in between burgers and Girl Scout cookies. Let's give overweight people a break, already.

Yet despite his enthusiasm, my doctor suggested that to increase weight loss, I should increase my mileage. At first, I was a little miffed that three miles a day wasn't good enough given that before this, I casually dated a treadmill about 4 times a month. But my doctor seems to think that four miles a day is a magic number. His suggestion was that I walk to work, have a healthy snack in the late afternoon, then walk halfway home. Some days I do get an extra mile in, and my supportive husband comes to get me. But that's not always an option, and some days, I'm just plain lazy at the end of a long day at work.

This leads me to need alternative transportation methods to get me home. Some days, I take Austin's Capital Metro Bus. There are some positive aspects of this choice for sure. For starters, bus fare is extremely inexpensive (for me, $.50 one-way). Not having to focus on driving is nice, because you can listen to music or read, or just gaze out the window while you're carted home. The bus is also generally on time, and if you look at it like I do in my play-pretend mind where I'm famous, it's like having your own personal driver. The problem is that you share that driver with an extremely random group of people, and you're all in the same limo. (My boss was riding the bus for a while, and always called it the Green Limo, which gave the city bus a glamorous association.) Most days, my route is full of professionals and students, and the ride home is quiet and cozy.

My problem is that the past few times I've been on the city bus, I've encountered some unsavory characters. Take the guy who hopped on the bus a few weeks ago and immediately began yelling at the driver for not being patient with the fistful of nickels he was shoving into the coin slot at a turtle's pace. People began rolling their eyes, irritated, and I was feeling about the same when I noticed his hat advertised that he was a Vietnam vet. Given how we treat our vets, I instantly felt a soft spot for him, even though he was yelling and pretty belligerent. But when he started dropping f-bombs and tripped over an old woman's foot and gave her expletive-ridden instructions on what to do with herself, my soft spot turned hard. I thought about saying something, except I was afraid of him, so I spent the rest of the bus ride hoping he wasn't packing heat. It's Texas, after all.

Or, about a month ago, I ended up across from a morbidly obese guy who, when I sat down, immediately flashed a smile that revealed one single front tooth. He was proud of that solitary tooth! Upon further inspection I noticed that he was wearing threadbare pale blue sweatpants that were about four sizes too small. When he sat down, he spread his legs so far I wondered if he was a college cheerleader in his younger years (simply because those are the only guys I know who can do Chinese splits, or who would admit to doing them). I shouldn't have looked, but it was obvious that this poor guy didn't bother to put on underwear. Cringing, I focused on my phone, checking emails and doing my best to ignore the nasty show in front of me. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, he reached into his pocket and fetched a tube of toothpaste, and proceeded to finger brush his single tooth while I watched on in horror. The only redeeming quality about this entire scene was that the guy was practicing some dental hygiene on his only remaining tooth. 

The negative bus experiences left me yearning for something a little more civilized. Car2Go to the rescue! Car2Go is one of my favorite methods of transportation home because it offers a private car, and it's a great business idea. As long as you don't mind driving a car that's basically a moped with doors, it will definitely get you from A to B. It's a simple concept. You join the program, which is free, and pay as you rent. To get a car, you go online, see what cars are free in your area, and either reserve it online or just walk over and grab it. It's inexpensive as well at just $.38/minute. Another bonus is if you want to go downtown and have some adult beverages, Car2Go can get you there, and a cab can get you home. That's a very responsible approach to happy hours. My only minor complaint with Car2Go is that sometimes, I spot a car and want to take it, and it's already booked. Or, because I drive like a granny (as one should in a motorized tin can), sometimes going 3 miles in traffic costs me $8, and while for many city dwellers, that's no big thing, it ends up costing more than I'd spend on gas if I drove. I also find that the per-minute rate encourages me to speed, or take other options during peak rush hour.

Several people have asked me why I don't ride a bike. I won't go into the details, but I didn't learn how to ride a bike until I was 26 years old. Thanks to my awesome stepson Matthew, who bought me a bike and challenged me to learn to ride it, I don't have to spend my entire life missing out on what is a very fun experience. But I'm not a confident bike-rider. If I hopped on a bike and attempted to ride through a congested 3-mile drive home, I'd be dead in a matter of days. 

The other day, I told my story to my new eye doctor, who offices downtown near my office at Stars in Your Eyes Optometry and Optical. (On a side note, it's a great business! They're efficient, offer great customer service, and a huge selection of stylish frames. I recommend it highly!) The doctor didn't ask all of the typical nay-saying questions I hear when I first tell people I've begun walking. Rather, he smiled and told me that he bikes about the same distance every day. He got me.

So if you read this blog and think I'm a complete nutcase, that's totally fine. On the other hand, if you read it and are frustrated that you work too far from work to walk each day, what about biking? Because you could totally bike one-way, lock your bike, and bus it home. And who knows? You might be like a friend of a friend of mine who took the bus, and someone on the bus sidled up and offered to sell them a pigeon. While I don't know what the going rate for a pigeon is these days, you must admit, if you choose to take alternative methods home, you're guaranteed to have an adventure.

The Turquoise Sports Bra That Could

Fat Tuesday caught up with me today. 

Ever-determined to stick with my walking plan, I decided to walk this morning despite a bit of a headache from last night's Fat Tuesday shenanigans. I woke up, put on workout clothes, and carefully packed a dress, tights, boots and sweater in my manly backpack, deciding that there's nothing like a brisk walk in 42 degree weather to rid my system of last night's toxins. 

By the time I got to work I felt great. After throwing back a soy chai and checking a few emails, I went to change out of my workout clothes, ready to take on the day. Except I forgot to pack a regular bra. Of all things to forget! 

The result? I spent the day strategically hiding my bright turquoise sports bra, displayed boldly around the neckline of my otherwise conservative mustard yellow dress. I piled on a necklace and a sweater, but in order to keep the turquoise material from sticking out, I had to raise my shoulders and thrust my chin downwards to make my neck seem invisible. That was a fun little challenge. It was even more challenging when a guest came into the office and my coworker brought him over to meet me. When I stood up to shake the poor fellow's hand, I worked so hard to make my neck look invisible that he looked at me sideways, like I'm a weird old troll lady who lives under a bridge. 

Bra-hiding game aside, I managed to knock out a lot of things on my to-do list, one of which was to prep for an important customer call at 1:00.  Because that meeting was my top priority for the afternoon, I finished up with a full hour free to grab lunch across the street. Standing in line for lunch, I reviewed some work emails on my phone when I and saw the subject line:

 "Are we still on for today?" I scrolled down a little further and the body of the email said, "Amy, are you going to start the meeting?"

Gasping loud enough for the people in line to turn and stare at me, I realized that my meeting was for 12:00 instead of 1:00. Complete panic set in. I jumped out of line and ran full force back to my office, heart pounding. Surely people I ran past thought I'd just swiped a tip jar or an old woman's handbag. It wasn't until later this afternoon that I realized my bright turquoise sports bra was on full display for the world to see, because while I ran, I forgot to make my neck invisible.  

I ran out of the elevator and jumped over to my desk, starting the meeting at 8 minutes after noon, breathless and mortified. Lucky for me, this particular group of customers was a team of kindhearted and forgiving people, who got pretty tickled at the idea of me running down the street for them. But still, it was one of my most embarrassing professional moments.

Worse yet, one of our managers was in town from our headquarter office, and before my scheduling snafu, I offered to pick up his lunch, so that left both of us empty-handed and starving. Hating to ask for help, I begged a wildly understanding coworker to get our lunches while I dialed into the next call. I was extremely thankful, especially because I wasn't looking forward to walking back into a restaurant that I'd darted out of like the place was burning down.

So as I wrap up another day with 3 walking miles logged, I can't help but wonder if leaving my bra at home was part of some Ash Wednesday Master Plan, and that I should give thanks for my turquoise sports bra for helping me haul ass when I needed it most.

Frequently Asked Questions on Why I'm Doing This

When I tell people that I'm walking for transportation, I get all sorts of opinions on the subject. Some people high-five me and congratulate me on taking steps to better health. Others frown and begin asking questions. Here is a list of FAQs, in case you are also wondering:

"Don't you get sweaty? Do you have a shower at work?"  Yes, from time to time I'm liable to sweat a bit. But I'd rather go to work a little sweaty than go to work chubby and road-ragy. Unfortunately, I don't have a shower option at work, so I shower at home, throw my hair up in a wet ponytail, and take off. I work at a software company in downtown Austin, and my colleagues are amazingly supportive of my decision to walk to work. Instead of asking permission, I just tell my colleagues what I want them to embrace as a philosophy when it comes to my walking: "You would rather see me getting healthy and wearing workout clothes than see me dressed perfectly and unhealthy." I say this using the effective Sullivan nod, so they're forced to agree. Some days I never change out of my workout clothes, and never put on make-up, so my crows feet and pale eyelashes are on display for my 10 other coworkers. So far, everyone seems unscathed, though they may be IM'ing each other mean messages about how awful I look. What I don't know won't kill me. Other days - especially if we have visitors coming in - I bring along professional attire and change clothes in our stairway bathroom. I've gotten really good at this. I timed myself the other day, and within 4 minutes, I was in a skirt, heels, adequate make-up, and jewelry. This is good news if I ever make a career switch and want to take up the life of a quick-change artist. 

"How long does it take?" As I've mentioned before, I'm not exactly athletic. I carry a backpack loaded up with 25 pounds of stuff, and I am pokey slow. Yet the more I walk, the more I pick up the pace, so that now, from my doorstep to my office, I log 3 miles in around 50 minutes, and that includes a stop to Starbucks and several seemingly endless stoplights. Some people shake their heads at this, but a lot of the people who do this also spend 45 minutes in their cars each morning, commuting from the burbs, so I remind them that I'm really lucky to be within fair walking distance of my office.

"Will this lead to running to work?" Absolutely not. Do you know how ridiculous I would look running with a backpack? But if you want to run to work, I say go for it. Bust out some Frank Ocean and Forrest Gump yourself to work if it makes you happy. I will add that when people ask me this, it sometimes feels as if they think walking isn't good enough, or that I need to set the bar a little higher. But I'm figuring out that it's human nature for people to encourage someone to improve on a goal, so I take it as a positive thing.

"Do you feel safe?" Many people ask this, but it mainly comes from my father, a cautious man who still thinks of me as an 8-year old, so I get that. I rarely walk when it's dark, but I walk through a heavily-guarded state capitol complex, to a heavily-guarded university campus, to my house. So I'm good. Plus, if anyone tries to mess with me, I can always hurl my huge backpack at them. 

"What do you do?" Besides walk? For one, I am never without my iPhone, so I give a little gratitude nod to Steve Jobs' spirit every morning. Many days I'm on the phone with family members, catching up on the latest family dirt. I also listen to NPR's Pop Culture Happy Hour, thanks to one of my wildly hip and intelligent coworkers, or I create fun playlists, or I listen to Selected Shorts. Without my headphones, I am nothing. So please don't take me for an avid hiker or nature lover. I like the concrete sidewalks under my feet, and embrace most of the urban smells that I encounter on the way to work. For example, I enjoy the weird Lipton Onion Soup smell that wafts from the underground state capitol complex vents, and I like the smell of cut grass and lawnmower gas at the UT campus. And as I grow more familiar with my route, I've learned when to hold my nose to escape the sad and nasty smell of homeless pee. 

"Are you losing weight?" Yep. It's agonizingly slow in my opinion, but I am losing weight. When I first started, I told a friend who lost a significant amount of weight years ago and has maintained it beautifully, despite having a kid and a few 10-pound setbacks. "Do you think I will lose weight just from walking 3 miles a day, 5 days a week?" I asked, hopefully. "No," she said, "You won't. It's all about what goes into your mouth." At the time she was telling me this, I was sucking down a glass of wine and halfway through a piece of pizza. Oh. However, though my friend didn't give me the encouragement I wanted, she was right. This journey isn't about weight loss, though I would be a boldface liar if I didn't admit that I want that to be part of the reward. So I'm avoiding the processed junk, eating more veggies and fruits, and drinking more water. At my age, while weight loss is certainly welcomed, I'm also fired up about lowering my blood pressure, reducing stress, and having better cardiovascular health.

More questions will come, but so far, these are the most common. Later, I'll tell you about the Nigerian cab driver that drove me home last week (I haven't given up transportation altogether), who, when I told the story of walking for transportation, got very worried that I will get hit by a car. Until then, if you have a destination that's under a mile today, consider ditching your car and hoofing it, then let me know how you feel!

I figure I should begin with how this crazy idea began.

In November 2012, an NPR report on Manhattan-based businesses dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy changed my life.

I was captivated by the story of Paul Nicaj, owner of Battery Gardens Restaurant, who stayed behind to save his restaurant, despite orders to evacuate, and in the process, a marble table fell on his toe and broke it. Nicaj, a typical badass New Yorker, taped his toe up and kept on working. I break toes all the time (okay, about every two years, but still), and can tell you from experience that breaking a toe and just getting on with it is a pretty impressive accomplishment. 

But even more impressive than the strong-willed, hobbling restaurant owner? The employees who came to work the next day to help clean up. Especially those who walked 15 miles to get there.

I simply could not get this image out of my head. If you've ever worked in a restaurant,  you know how hard that work can be. Imagine going to your restaurant job after adding a little 15-mile stroll. Imagine doing that after God knows what happened to your house when a hurricane came to town.

The mental image of these restaurant workers walking to work lit a very strange fire under my otherwise lazy butt. I imagined what it would feel like to walk to my office downtown from my cozy nearby neighborhood. I mapped the route. 2.7 miles. I considered that often, when I'm walking on a treadmill, I get bored or tired, and stop halfway through to do something more interesting, like eat a scone.  I thought about walking for transportation, and how if I were walking to work, I couldn't stop halfway through, because that would look silly, and I might get fired. I also thought about the fact that many people have no other option. It hit me that I am a lazy person, and how choosing to walk for transportation would be a refreshing change from walking out of a self-imposed guilt trip to exercise for health. Something clicked.

That Monday morning, I put on workout clothes, borrowed a manly backpack from my amused husband, and crammed it to the hilt with all of the gear I'd need to dress professionally after arriving to my office. I filled up a huge water bottle, found my iPhone exercise band (hardly used), and my good headphones with a speaker for calling 911 in the event of an emergency. By the time I finished packing, you would think I was leaving for a month-long hike in the Serengeti.

I walked about ten steps and called my sister, eager to brag about this walking project, but also seeking some moral support. My sister was both amazed and cracked up that I had taken on this personal challenge. If you don't know me personally, I'm not exactly Sporty Spice. I detest tennis shoes. Sports bras make me claustrophobic. The many years I spent starving myself to weigh less than 120 pounds have come back to haunt me, so my battle of the bulge is more like the battle of a few bulges I'd rather not talk about.

So imagine my surprise when 55 minutes after calling my sister, I found my reflection in the elevator of my downtown office building, pink-faced and smiling. I won't lie; some of it was challenging. First of all, I had an extra 25 pounds of crap on my back. Also, some of the hills in downtown Austin were a bit daunting. But the stroll through the University of Texas campus was lovely. Not once did I experience road rage. I saved myself the irritating exercise of navigating my impossible office parking garage -- a parking garage designed by an engineer who clearly hated cars and their drivers. I felt fantastic the entire day. My coworkers were like my sister, impressed and amused all at the same time.

By Wednesday, I was eager to walk again. I worked out the logistics with my husband so I could walk home. Walking home was a bit less exciting than my first day, where my sister stayed on the phone the entire time to help me count down the blocks and keep me motivated. Yet, as the sky grew dark and I walked through the UT campus, I thought about what I'm normally doing on the short drive home. Cursing at the Ford F150 driver in front of me. Rolling my eyes at the endless stoplights. And even though about halfway through the walk home, my back ached and I felt a little tired, I thought about those restaurant workers, trekking 15 miles to help their boss save his restaurant, and realized that my little walk was only a fifth of that journey.

Thursday, one of my cute coworkers, a runner in her 20's, showed up to work with a backpack, and announced she was going to walk home. 

"You inspired me!" she said cheerfully. "It took me an hour to drive home in traffic the other night, and I starting thinking that I could get home just as fast if I walked, and I would enjoy doing it."

Imagine me, a lazy 40-year old woman, inspiring already-healthy people to consider commuting on foot. Crazy! Yet, when Friday morning rolled around, I walked to work again. By the end of the week, I'd walked 9 miles.

I'm sure that you're expecting me to tie this story back to a grand philanthropic effort to walk to help the hurricane victims. I can't say that's the case, but maybe I'm on to something here. What if every now and then, we walked somewhere in a reasonable distance, and sacked away the gas money we saved?  Hey, maybe we could send that saved money to the charity of our choice! 

It may not be for you, and I totally get that. You're probably a motivated individual who actually exercises regularly, and that's fantastic. But for those of us who struggle to find motivation, this idea of walking for transportation is really quite rewarding. On top of the obvious benefits - saving gas, reducing stress, helping prevent heart disease - when I ended the week with nearly 9 miles under my belt, something truly miraculous happened. The cute pink dress that hung in my closet that caused an unfortunate sausage effect when I tried it on the first time? I tried it again a week later, and it slipped on effortlessly. 

And that, friends, is reason enough for me to squeeze into a sports bra and keep on walking.