Side by side

Over winter break, I spent a lot of time walking in an effort to mitigate the other activity that occupied much of my time: eating well. The weather was beautiful most days — 40s and sunny without much wind. We tend to do the same 3.2-mile loop on country roads that meander and dart past small farms, woods, and century-old stone walls dividing the landscape. If we head out early, cars are blissfully absent. Over the years, these walks have been an important ritual to our time away from work. We joke now that we “walked the whole way and didn’t need to run once” in a grim nod to our younger years and faster pace.

Sometimes we talk — solving the world’s problems or sorting out familial drama — but once we find our tempo, we usually walk quietly. The stillness is intoxicating, and the chance to think uninterrupted is a rare gift. There is something about walking next to someone that makes conversations deeper even if they are just in my head.

Every break I spend a lot of time walking with a close friend who is one of the people I admire beyond words. I have opened up to him and him to me in ways that challenge everything we were taught as young boys about sharing our hopes and dreams. I am often struck by how fearless he is to engage with ideas counter to the way he had been taught or has experienced life. His willingness to wrestle with this ambiguity and discomfort has pushed me as a leader, a teacher, a father, and a husband. Of course, not all of these walks are deeply meditative or serious — that would be a bore.

I am not saying that these conversations couldn’t have happened in a more formal setting, but the lack of expectation when we head south on East Main Road is pure nourishment for the soul. Side by side we walk without a script or intention other than to see what the cadence of our stride brings.

JWB
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