D  e  s  e  r  t   E  x  p  o  s  u  r  e        January 2008

Diary of a Streetwalker

The story of how one woman lost pounds and found peace through a promise that turned into a healthy addiction.

By Donna Clayton Lawder

One full year ago, I made myself a New Year's promise that I managed to keep for the duration of 2007. You'll note that I call it a "promise," not a "resolution." Too often, like so many earnest souls intent on self-improvement, I've set Big Goals For the New Year, then widely broadcast my resolutions, perhaps hoping the watchful eyes of my co-workers, friends and spouses would help me keep to the virtuous path.

The author climbing La Capilla. (Photo by Lisa D. Fryxell)

But, come on, breaking New Year's resolutions is such a common experience that people joke about it. You've heard it in line at the grocery store, around the water cooler at work — "yeah, that didn't last" or "so much for my resolutions — often by the second week of January!

For this whole past year, however, I did manage to "keep to the virtuous path" — quite literally, for my promise to myself was simply "to walk more."

I cannot tell you exactly how many miles I purposefully traversed in 2007. After a while, I abandoned my self-styled "Motivation Journal," stopped recording my meals and miles on the online Progress Monitor with its nifty caloric-metabolic-BMI calculator. The walking itself, you see, became its own reward — if not a downright addiction. How I began to feel — and what I saw in the mirror — became motivation enough.

Over the course of this past year, walking has helped me to lose some 15 pounds, significantly lower my blood pressure and find a sense of spaciousness in my busy life. I've accumulated a bunch of neat gear and discovered corners of my neighborhood and new spots from which to admire the light on the mountains and catch a good sunset.

There's also been a bit of drama, as I have fended off some pretty scary dogs and their even scarier owners. And one fine morning I even was hit by a car!

As we all look to a New Year filled with promise, I'd like to share my experiences. My hope is that by revealing my own simple, well, steps, I might help to encourage you along the path to improved health and wellbeing.

Besides, then I get to write off all these sneakers and spandex outfits, right?

In the Beginning: Winter

When 2007 dawns, my blood pressure is tickling the high side of normal, around 140 over 88. Coming from a family full of hypertensives, I've kept a watchful, slightly nervous eye on my blood pressure since I hit adulthood. Let's add to this picture the fact that you can't swing an insulin syringe without hitting diabetics in my immediate and extended family. Mom, grannies, aunts and cousins — there's hardly a woman in my family who's not a diabetic.

Not being able to do much about my family tree, it seems like a good idea to work on the things I can control. Besides, who's to say where heredity leaves off and habit picks up? Along with the obvious blood connection, I can't help but note that a lot of the Walter Women from whom I'm descended share a love of big meals, sweets and sitting around, gabbing on the phone. Many of my cousins put on the pounds during pregnancy and just never took them off, a known risk factor for The Big D.

As a writer of lifestyle and health articles for a national newsletter, I've read many studies, done a lot of research, and am well aware of the impact and importance of exercise — that dirty word that either bores or stymies so many of us. So I make myself a promise to up my physical activity in 2007. No big mileage goals or magic numbers. Just a commitment to myself to get out and walk regularly — OK, very regularly — and keep at it.

I keep my goals reasonable and flexible: I'll walk for at least 15 minutes at a time, and I'll do it several times a week. Hey, set myself up for success, not failure, right?

And so, remarkably soon after 2007 begins, I buy myself a new pair of sneakers and find myself actually lacing them up one startlingly crisp January morning. I must have an air of excitement or determination about me, as my husband asks what I am doing. Going for a walk, I reply.

"Really?" He looks incredulous. But then, to be fair, this is a man who's heard me complain about cold weather for 21 winters, who's seen me circle the grocery store parking lot, angling for the closest possible space.

"Yes, really," I say.

I'm wearing sweat pants and couple of layers of shirts, including my old green Eastern Mountain Sports shirt, my favorite for outdoor athletic activity. This high-tech "miracle fabric" garment is nearly 17 years old now. I think it must be made from the bodies of ground-up space aliens, being an indescribable green color; after all these years, it still warms me when it's cold outside, cools me when I start to overheat, wicks away sweat and stops drafty breezes. Certainly it can repel Klingon warriors and more. Who could fail wearing such a fine shirt?, I think, and step out into the blinding winter sunlight. OK, it's cold.

I've never been much for stretching before activity, much to my high-school track coach's disapproval. True to form, I launch right into hoofing it up the street this brittle morning, certain that once I get moving I'll be warm enough.

One of the wonderful things about walking, the experts will tell you, is that it requires so little gear, no gym and can pretty much be done whenever and wherever one chooses. Here in the southwestern corner of New Mexico, we are blessed with "four gentle seasons," as the Chamber of Commerce likes to say. Once the sun is up, it's a rare winter day that's too cold for walking. In summer, one can avoid the heat by walking in the cool of the morning. During monsoon season, plan to be back before the afternoon thunderheads roll in.

I think about how lucky I am to have so many walking options right outside my door. I live in the Silver Heights neighborhood, up behind where the old hospital long stood. That's Silver Heights — get it? It's easy to find a gently inclining street around here, and I choose the one that runs up behind the neighborhood. I find plenty of challenge in just making it to the top and back, and I take my full 15 minutes to complete the loop back to my front door.

Now that my legs are warmed up, I decide to stretch out on the living room rug, a fresh cup of coffee my reward. That wasn't too bad, I think.

So it goes the first several weeks of my new regimen, with me making this 15-minute jaunt almost every morning. The top of the hill is great for viewing the sunrise, I find, and on clear days, I think I can see mountains in Mexico in the far, far off distance.

Soon I note that I'm completing my morning trek more quickly. In order to make the walk last the full 15 minutes, I now have to loop back through another neighborhood. I explore streets I've never found a reason to visit before.

Before February is out, I'm extending my walks to a half-hour. I get myself a little journal and start recording my accomplishments. What a great way to start the day!, I think. I swear it even helps me to write better.

Spring

It's time to celebrate. By April, I note that I've lost eight pounds. Eight pounds! I buy a new pair of walking pants — brilliant blue capris — to celebrate my new waistline, plus two new T-shirts for springtime layering. I realize I've been neglecting my mileage log journal, and switch to an online system. I can record everything I eat, how far I walk, and it tells me how many calories I've burned. It tracks my Body Mass Index, or BMI, calculating how much of my flab I'm losing and how much muscle mass I'm building. Muscle weighs more than fat, I learn, so I shouldn't be discouraged if I don't lose weight — rely on the tape measure and how my clothes are fitting.

I also buy a really cool lightweight pouch in which I stick a small notebook and cute, pink micro-sized pen. I find that some interesting thoughts come to me while I'm out there walking in my own little solitude. I also can throw my driver's license and a little emergency money into the pouch. I plan to be straying farther from home — truth be told, I am a bit tired of walking my neighborhood loops and hills.

By now, I've explored a bit of Boston Hill at the southwest corner of town, gone out on a newly opened forest service trail, and discovered the Sidewalk Solar System walk (see the June 2007 Desert Exposure). On Swan Street, just blocks from my house, the Sidewalk Solar System provides a gently rolling one-mile walk to the Silver High School track. Images depicting the sun and each planet — along with name, size in comparison to Earth and distance from the sun — are set into bronze plaques embedded into the sidewalk at carefully measured intervals. It's built on a mind-boggling scale of 3-billion-to-1, so each step the average human takes represents more than 1 million miles. Walking at a normal pace between the markers for the planets, you're imaginatively covering a million miles, traveling around 10 times the speed of light as though hitching a ride on the Starship Enterprise.

I like to take this walk among the stars and planets first thing in the morning or between writing pieces.

But though the solar system walk is up on the sidewalk and presumably safe, it's not an opportunity to let your mind go completely blank and put the Enterprise on cruise control. This, in fact, is where I am actually struck by a car one fine spring morning.

Having walked from the solar system to the track and completed a few laps around, I am heading back down Swan Street toward home. It's balmy, bordering on summer weather, and still early morning. I am thinking of the piece I am going to write today, outlining my thoughts in my head.

Other good people of the world are heading out to work. I note that there's more traffic on Swan Street than I remember, and an awful lot of people backed up from the point of that awkward little All-Way stop sign. Some folks sit in their driveways and side streets, waiting for their chance to pull out into the pulsing throng.

A lady in a big car — I'm not good at identifying models — decides to take her shot. More concerned with backing out of her driveway and into the street than, say, watching for defenseless sidewalk pedestrians obeying all the rules of traffic, she suddenly lurches toward Swan — and right into my thigh! OK, that smarts!

Fortunately, she's not going that fast. Instinctively, I smack both my hands on her trunk — hard! — to alert her to my presence. She stops short and I see her look up into her rearview mirror, a startled expression coming over her face as I register on her retinas. No, oddly, behind her was one place she hadn't been looking while backing out.

I leap aside and she turns around in her seat to face me, her expression now truly annoyed. She gives me an urgent hand gesture, which I'll charitably translate here as "What are you doing behind my car?," then quickly whips out into the street and hauls ass around a corner.

Albert Einstein is quoted as saying that the most important decision we make is whether we believe we live in a friendly or hostile universe. I'm on the side of friendly. I just don't think this is a mean, scary world filled with disappointments, danger and obstacles, and I try to believe the best about others.

I don't believe that woman who left a football-sized bruise on my thigh even knew she hit me. My appearance in her rearview mirror — surely "out of nowhere," in her perception — was startling, unnerving, perhaps even frightening.

Let me say it right here, right now: Lady, I forgive you. And I'm also damned glad that at least one of us was aware of the proximity of my mortal form to your bumper.

Summer

At a doctor's appointment, I make a happy discovery: I've lost five more pounds! I'm even more startled to learn that my blood-pressure reading has dropped to 108/62 — the lowest it's been in years. A few weeks later, while at a local health fair, I decide to visit the blood-sugar screening booth. My reading comes up normal — not the "high normal" I've seen crop up on and off for years, but normal normal.

By now, it's about time for a new pair of sneakers, believe it or not. With the warmer temps, I also buy a wicking, breathing, miracle-fabric tank top. Looks sharp, too, on my increasingly fit frame. I even find the Holy Grail of sports bras.

With so much of my skin now exposed to the summer sky, I think more seriously about sunscreen. I wear a foundation make-up with SPF-30 on my face year round, and the rest of me usually is covered. But to protect my now-often-bare shoulders and arms, I get a spray-on sunscreen product that enables me to reach my back, all by myself.

I've also been wearing an old fanny pack that holds a water bottle all this time. Gets the job done, but it's clunky, bigger than I need or want. After shopping around and trying on model after model, I find the perfect, sleek, smart little water bottle holster with style. It's even got a pocket, into which I can slip a meal bar and carbohydrate shooter, in case I walk so far I run too low on fuel.

By now I'm up to walking an hour at a clip, and a pretty good clip, at that! Trails out at scenic Bear Mountain Lodge, trips up to the university and back through town — I vary my route, meander and add on loops, making sure I keep out for my hour. It's my "constitutional" now, and I wouldn't miss it.

I don't even keep up with my online calculator — how I feel is the only barometer I need.

I've clocked the trip from my house up to La Capilla — Silver City's little historic-recreation church on the hill — and back home, and am happy to find I'm getting in five miles with that walk. On my way back, I like to take a detour into one of the downtown bike shops or pick up a few groceries or a post-walk treat for myself at the food co-op.

Fall

The mercury and the leaves begin to drop. I get a new warm-up suit, a full size smaller than my last one, I note.

It's time for another new pair of walking shoes, too. The last ones didn't hold up so well, especially with my increasing mileage. Having recently joined the "Members' Buying Club" of some major outdoor clothing company, I also spring for some pricey walking socks. They're really cushy! I can't believe the difference they make! I also get a new long-sleeve top, something made out of some space-age material that wicks and breathes and feels like heaven itself against my skin. I figure if it lasts half as long as the "space alien" shirt, it'll be worth it.

Most weekdays, I find a way to incorporate errands into my morning walk. The route from my house to the post office and back is a 2.5-mile round trip. I also like walking to Albertson's grocery store, a three-mile loop — not counting up and down the aisles — with weight in my backpack on my way home, adding to the workout factor. (Note to self: This is a good way to discipline how much I buy; my purchases simply have to fit into the backpack.)

Adding a purposeful destination, I find, helps me commit to building my walk into even the busiest day. The workout can get lost in the shuffle, say, if I start thinking about the writing I have to accomplish, tell myself I'll take a walking break "later" between interviews or phone calls, and then wind up running out of time and/or energy. But, heck, I need to go to the post office anyway, right? And if I just loop over through town on my way back. . .

Between my own aspirations toward living a "green" lifestyle and the current price of a gallon of gas, I certainly don't mind leaving the car parked at home.

Winter Again

I've come full-circle, back to winter. This morning the sky is what I call a "snow sky." Whether or not we'll get any actual precipitation, the feeling is definitely wintry. The horizon, the color of a deep purple bruise, is filled with heavy clouds. I meet up and chat briefly with one of my neighbors. She's walking back home, having been to the gym this morning. Walking to and from adds cardio to her upper-body weight training session, she says. Another neighbor walks by with her dog.

After our goodbyes, I decide to walk up Swan Street to the high school track, admiring the Sidewalk Solar System along the way. I take in the cozy feel of the neighborhood, and I feel my shoulders relax as I contemplate the heavenly bodies depicted in the bronze replicas set into the pavement. All that space, I think.

I arrive at the track and decide to walk four laps. This adds a mile to my trip and gives me plenty of time to think. Or to not think.

By the time I head back home, the clouds have darkened and intensified. The sight of the sky thrills me, and I feel giddy at my core like a little girl hoping for a snow day.

I acknowledge that winter has really arrived in southwest New Mexico. How great, I think to myself, that I can still get outside and walk. And walk.

For information on the Sun Country Striders and Volksmarching in Las Cruces, see www.zianet.com/dpiland/SunCountry, or contact the American Volkssport Association, (800) 830-WALK, www.ava.org For information on Active & Alive, contact Mary Ann Finn in Silver City, 538-5318, ext. 112. For information on "Great Places to Walk in Grant County," contact the Grant County Health Council, 388-1198, or download a copy of the map at www.gcchc.org For information and instructions on the Sidewalk Solar System, see nfo.edu/solar

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