The Infamous Walker Limps Home
Estimated reading time: 16 minutes, 57 seconds
Is There Hope?
Two questions remain unanswered, like dust bunnies gathering under my bed. When I asked Dr. Limido about my chances of recovery, she responded clearly and reassuringly. “You are still early in the treatment. If you keep doing the stretches, resting, wearing better shoes or inserts, and using the night splint, you will recover.” Like many of us—especially men—I tend to be impatient and want an immediate fix rather than a gradual process. However, I have complete confidence in her and my physical therapist, viewing their guidance as the path forward.
But, dear reader, am I being dishonest when I say that I still walk, even though the distance and pace have fallen apart like a Lego house missing a foundation block? My walking streak has become my mantra. With each milestone—four years, fifteen hundred days, and more—I have celebrated triumphantly. If my walking streak ends, what would it mean to me?
On my walk this morning, the pain was less, but my tears felt so full I worried that if I let them out, I would be a one-person flash flood. As I approached home and walked through Hanson Park, the impending downpour eased up, and I began to focus sharply on why I walk. Yes, the distance, pace, and records were enjoyable. I started walking not for those reasons. I took the first step into an unknowable future after my wife died. Looking at the Wind Sculpture as I left the park, I knew I was a better, healthier, and more resilient person.
My Apple Fitness app has accepted that, after an erratic month, my new daily average is four miles. For a man who will be seventy-six and a half during the High Holidays, that might be the best I can do. Some days, I might walk less. By the time I arrived home, I decided that as long as I can walk every day, my streak will continue.
Today was 1,555 days and counting!
The Jan Lilien Education Fund sponsors ongoing sustainability and environmental awareness programs. All donations are tax-deductible.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
The book Never Forget Our People Were Always Free is told through parables. It features intimate glimpses of political and 
