Extending greetings

As regular readers know, I try to walk for an hour every morning when weather and circumstances permit. That leads to an average of five days a week, nine months of the year. December through February get iffy.

Other than for the sake of the exercise itself, one thing I try to do while walking is to greet everyone I meet. It's interesting that a simple 'good morning' can appear to make other folks smile. I can't tell you how many people approach where you can see they're keeping their heads down, unsure whether they should make contact. Then I say "Good Morning!" and they invariably smile and say it back. I like to think it's good for us both.

To be sure, some do not respond, or respond surly. Yet I try not to let that bother me. I don't know what's on their minds or how their lives have been lately, so why make a big deal of it? Even if they are surly by nature, my good morning certainly can't hurt.

It all actually makes my walks better. I've never been much on psychology but I can see that when we choose a good attitude we tend to develop one. With that in mind I say to all of you out there, Good Morning!

Or good afternoon if you don't see this until then.

Good Mornings

This is just about my favorite time of year for my morning walks. It's warm, and you can start early as dawn begins around 5:30. In da U.P., Michigan's Upper Peninsula - I'm sorry, Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula - you can be out before 5 AM and it's light enough to see.

Yep, I like walking this time of year. I surely do.

Go on now, that's all you're getting out of me today. I have to walk the walk.

Marty and the sparrow

Often as I enjoy my morning constitutional I walk past the Wayne State University baseball diamond, Ernie Harwell Field. Baseball and Ernie go together very well, don't they?

A fence runs along the third base side of the field, a regular old chain link fence. I would say it's about 400 feet long, ending at the service drive of the Ford Freeway. Tuesday as I hiked along the sidewalk outside the fence I was accompanied by a sparrow. Yet I don't think he cared to accompany me.

Chain link fences have all those little diamond shaped holes formed by the chain links, right? They're perfect for tiny birds to perch upon. Or within I suppose. So it wasn't surprising that this sparrow was sitting in one of those little holes as I approached from one end of the fence.

Birds however don't care for human company. When seeing me the sparrow left his perch, to fly about fifteen feet away and resit in another diamond link. Of course I kept on walking. I was on my morning walk after all.

As I drew closer the bird moved again, another several feet down the fence. My closing in on that position caused the little guy to move again. I got closer and he flit another few yards. This repeated itself the entire length of the fence.

I found it funny, the bird trying to keep its distance and me just plugging along. The sparrow however was likely thinking, 'The hell, dude? I'm trying to respect your space, why don't you respect mine?"

Birds, huh?

Athlete's rhythm

We Cosgriffs, we walk fast and with a mild waddle. That's just how we are. We're so much that way in fact that it's hard to walk slow. I mean it.

I turned my ankle one day last week. No, I did not hurt it while taking it out my mouth, yes, ha, ha, quite witty of you. I enjoy jocularity. 

Anyway, I twisted it while hiking around the neighborhood last week in my normal, Cosgriff pace. But I hit a curb wrong and had to stay off my left ankle for a while. Thursday I could hardly put weight on it, although there was no swelling.

I tried walking Saturday and Sunday yet within a few feet - a few feet, ha, ha, now I'm witty - it was obvious that a regular walk wasn't in the offing for a couple more days. Yet this morning I figured it was time to get back out there. But I would walk slower. You know, get exercise but don't put too much pressure on the ankle. Work my way back up to normal. Like an athlete. Yes, exactly like an athlete.

That's where I found out that walking slower was a chore when you're used to walking fast. Typically I walk nine blocks in around eleven minutes. Yes, I count the blocks. I always have in order to know my pace with regard to time. Today it took me fourteen plus minutes to hike nine blocks. It was agonizing. Still, I managed to walk close to an hour at that rate. 

And now back at home my ankle feels fine. So hopefully it's all for the better. 

Fool you once

I really got nothing today. I hate writer's block.

I'll take my usual daily constitutional in a few minutes. I'll end up at the Shop and make a cup of coffee on my Newark Keurig. I'll repair some cables and do a few other things I couldn't get to during the regular week.

Then I'll go home, clean up, watch a bit of TV, and read. My current book is The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club, a Lord Peter Wimsey novel by Dorothy Sayers. Wimsey is kind of Dorothy's Sherlock Holmes. I've read a couple others of that series. They're not bad, especially if you like murder mysteries.

Then sleep, waking up early to watch Korean baseball. That's it.

Perhaps I had something to write after all, even if it is rather mundane. And I've either fooled myself into writing a blog, or fooled you into reading it.

Perspective

Several weeks ago, I found I was at a point far down Trumbull about halfway through my morning constitutional. Walking northward, I saw the boom of a crane in the distance. Yet within a few blocks it was no longer there. 'Must've moved on,' I thought to myself.

A few days later I was back in roughly the same place, and I saw the boom again. That was odd, I thought. But you see construction equipment all the time in and around Detroit so I figured it was a different one. In another few blocks though it also disappeared. I must admit I was perplexed, but I shrugged it off and went home.

When I spied the boom of a crane north off Trumbull yet again in the coming weeks I had to investigate. I determined to walk up the street all the way to the machine just to solve the mystery. But me being me, my thoughts wandered, and before long the crane was again gone, as if into the ether. I had to keep going then. Something was amiss.

As I came into the clearing created by Wayne State University's Matthei Field I saw that the crane had returned. Or, more correctly, my line of sight was no longer blocked. The crane was part of new construction at Henry Ford Hospital. It seemed to disappear only because as I neared it the trees between it and I, being taller in perspective, hid it.

I must admit I felt a bit stupid. But that's nothing new either.