Wendyloo Walks the Labyrinth and Emerges Unscathed

Count 'em up. 6 miles this weekend. 4 yesterday, 2 today and as yet no soreness. I'd like thank the makers of ibuprofen and electric blankets for my utter lack of pain. Without you, my friends... well I'd be too pooped to type.

As for yesterday, here's the story: *I* have no sense of direction. None. Noooone whatsoever. So when I say I'm afraid of getting lost, it's a justified fear. I am not one of those people who can just... follow their instincts and end up magically back at my cottage. Oh no. I'm Rabbit. I'm the one leading the Expotition around in circles before Pooh saves the day with his Taoist philosophy.
(Seriously, if you haven't read The Tao of Pooh, you need to.)

So I'm walking. Everything's groovin'. I'm wearing my new CoolMax socks for some comfy blister-free tootsies. And when I think I'm close to the goal of 2 miles, I start heading home. But then I look at my shiney new pedometer--there's a story for another time, grumble grumble--it says 1.52 miles. And it being NOT .48 miles back to my house at that point, I decided to just keep going. Sure, I had my first bo staff class in a few hours but I'd be fine for that. It's just walking, right?

Oh but then, I wandered into a labyrinth, children. An epic maze of suburban neighborhoods clearly charted by someone with severe ADD. The streets wound around in circles, doubling back on themselves several times over and spiraling, spiraling, spiraling down into my own private hell. I always thought it best to get lost on foot because it's so much easier to just stop or turn around. But no. No. Turning around was easy but getting where I was going took a lot more effort that deep breathing away a panic attack and pressing down a peddle with my right foot.

Finally, I saw multiple cars passing quickly in the distance and I thought, THIS IS IT! I've found my way back to South St! I'm almost home!

Not... so much.

I ended up on Main St. nowhere near my house and what's worse is that I was so disorientated that when I turned onto Main, I started walking... in the opposite direction of home. Mmhmm. Don't be jealous of my genius.

Once I figured out where I was (as I passed the post office with a grimace of recognition), I couldn't very well turn around. Golly gee, I might look stupid. So I... kept going. I walked up rte 20 to the Southwest Cutoff, cut through a neighborhood I often drive through on the way to Target and crossed town amid honking cars (what's that about? seriously? why honk at people walking who aren't even remotely in your way) and monstrous dust storms. Eventually, I made it back to South St. and headed up the giant hill home. I'll tell you what: my house has never looked so miraculous.

The best part of my adventure walk was my attitude throughout. I realized I was up a creek when I had to walk sideways across hills to keep from getting runover and boy howdy, ain't no paddle gonna help me then. But I did not despair. Nor did I rejoice. Mostly I just thought, Well, nothing to do now but keep going. And maybe that's not the most positive mantra but it certainly does work.

I didn't so much get to the laundry I had intended to do post-walk. In fact, I wrapped myself in a blanket, took 2 ibuprofen and TV-napped for about an hour. But I did manage to get myself up and showered and off to my bo staff class where I still had enough energy to participate fully and totally smack myself repeatedly with a wooden stick. Woo!

P.S. I lurve the bo staff. I shall name it Charlie and we shall become the best of friends.

Sunday's walk wasn't quite as magically delicious but I did take the mom and two disposable cameras along and we... oh we had an adventure. I stood on a rock on Main St. and waved to passing cars. There are pictures. Once I get them developed, I'll be happy to share.