Day: March 4, 2021

Chicago, IL – During yesterday’s walk, I thought a lot about paths. I found I had a few choices as I walked along the lakeshore. There was a path close to the seawall. There were the rocks that make up the seawall. There was a wide strip of grass along the gravel pathway. There was the gravel pathway. There was the Lakeshore Trail. Which one to take?

I like the feeling of being near a lakeshore; that is something I can also do at home. So I started off on that path. Along the way, I came across a man who had a portable speaker playing his music. It wasn’t loud, but I veered off the path and began to travel on the wider strip of grass (not quite grass yet this time of year). The path led me under trees and such, and felt soft under my feet. It wasn’t perfectly level, but that was OK.

I found myself walking parallel with a young girl who appeared to be of high school age. She had a backpack on, and she was walking closer to the shoreline. Some other people were coming up the opposite direction, so I had to make a choice: get closer to the shoreline, or move to the gravel path. I chose the latter. The gravel path was wide and even, and a little harder underfoot. I moved to the right side of this path, farther from the lake.

There was a path I wanted to take that led up a small incline, but the high schooler had already claimed this route, so I stayed on the gravel. The gravel led to a sidewalk, the smoothest but hardest surface I had walked on. It was on this path that I reached the halfway point of my walk, so I made a wide turn across a small field, and found myself on beach sand.

The sand proved to be the toughest surface on which to walk. Your feet sink in, and it’s an effort to push off. Fortunately, the sand did not last too long, and I walked on a sidewalk around a small parking lot.

From there, I was able to get on that high ridge path that the high schooler had been on. There was a wide walking path as well as a rutted bike path up here. The little bit of height felt nice. The water was clear blue, with most of the ice melted away. Only some very large ice mounds remained right on the shoreline; large, mud-covered blocks of frozen water hanging, waiting to fall. There was a small flock of geese seemingly practicing their take-offs and landings into the lake.

The mound trail ended, and I descended onto the grassy strip once again. I began to notice the unevenness a bit more under my feet, making me pay some attention to where I was placing my feet as I trudged along. Roots, small holes, little depressions, stones and twigs, all played a part in how I placed one foot in front of the other. The man with the music was still there as I walked by, this time indulging in a little pungent weed. I felt the urge to ask for a toke.

I arrived back at the car after this 30-minute sojourn, a bit winded, but feeling pretty good. All I had really done was travel in a fairly straight line, first south, then north, taking whatever path I found most reasonable and would keep me socially distanced from people. But by the end, I felt like I had traveled a lifetime.

Life is a straight line, from one year to the next, with no deviation. It’s only a matter of which paths you choose to take that offers variety. Some paths are even, some not. Some are hard, some soft and muddy. Some paths offer better views than others. Some paths offer more solitude, some less. One moves south in the early years, but eventually you take a big turn and begin moving north. You end up where you began: helpless, feeble, in need of others to supply your needs and wants. You wonder about all the paths you didn’t take, couldn’t take. You think you’ll get on those paths tomorrow, until you run out of tomorrows.

That was my walk yesterday – 30 minutes of choosing paths. Whatever your path is these days, tread it lightly, and tread it safely. -twl