When I was in Basic Training for the Army, we were often adjured to walk purposefully. No meandering strolls with a schnoodle for soldiers (not that I owned a schnoodle or even knew what one was in those days).
“Walk like you got a purpose,” First Sergeant would say. I always liked that way of putting it. I thought about those words Wednesday as we put the leash on Tabby and set out for that evening’s Mohawk Valley adventure (just to invest a perfectly pedestrian post with a little excitement).
Now, a meandering stroll with a schnoodle is a beautiful thing. As regular readers know, I take many and blog about them. Sometimes I add a purpose by walking to the post office to mail post cards. Wednesday, we decided to go further afield.
Thursday we have the first monthly dinner meeting of Ilion Little Theatre’s 2011-2012 season (preview of Friday’s blog post). I wanted to bring a veggie tray, so a visit to Hannaford was in order (I know, I only could have stopped at Mohawk Farmer’s Market on my way home from work. My bad). We’ve never walked to Hannaford, because we drive down busy streets to get there. I don’t like walking where there’s a lot of fast traffic, especially with a dog. I had noticed while running, however, that Folts Street, one of those quiet residential streets Herkimer is blessed with, comes out right near Hannaford. You only have to cross one busy street. We decided to try it.
While running I had located Folts Street but had not run all the way to the other end, so was not sure where it started. Streets never do run in a straight grid, do they? For one thing, they almost never run from one end of town to the other; for another, they are never perfectly parallel. However, we located the street without too much problem and walked down it.
You might think we would be quite familiar with all the area streets, between our walks and my runs, but that is not the case. See, when we walk and when I run, our usual method is to say “We’ll turn here,” or “Let’s go down this street,” very spontaneously. Sometimes we even let Tabby decide. It often comes as a surprise when we find ourselves close to home again.
Soon we found ourselves on a stretch of sidewalk we rarely, if ever, have been down. Suddenly a large dog was off his front porch, jumping and barking. Tabby was not impressed. She wanted to sniff a post at the next house over, but I convinced her to move on and not give the other dog doggy apoplexy.
“I ran by that dog yesterday,” I said. “He just stood on the porch and looked at tme. I said, ‘Hi, pretty dog.'”
“Maybe it’s the influence of another dog,” Steven speculated.
We were delighted to find a WALK signal with button on Don Reille Boulevard (the one busy street you have to cross). We utilized it, and soon I was shopping while Steven and Tabby nicely waited outside.
It would have been better to have brought two reusable shopping bags instead of one, because my purchase was a little heavy. Steven carried it for me, like the excellent husband he is. We walked back down Folts Street on the opposite side of the big dog, then turned down Gray Street, to go home a different way. We employed a little of our “Let’s turn here” method, but did not meander too much.
My legs told me it was a longer walk than usual, but that’s not a bad thing. It was a practical and enjoyable way to spend part of a Mohawk Valley evening.
Mohawk Valley Girl 