1,500 Good Mornings

One Step at a Time Into the Future

As I turned my back on the serene Nomahagen Lake, the sudden shift in the atmosphere was palpable. The thick, humid air clung to me like a second skin, making me yearn for a refreshing downpour to wash away the stickiness and rejuvenate my weary skin. Just then, a focused runner zipped past, and despite my dampened mood, I mustered a smile and called out, “Good morning! Have a great day!” She paused a few strides ahead, glancing back with a spark of recognition. I saw you yesterday,” she replied, a hint of familiarity despite my not recognizing her.

I stood my ground and said, “It’s a beautiful day despite the dampness.” She nodded her head and explained that she was visiting her sister and had no experience running in a sauna. We laughed, and even though I wanted to ask where she was from, I held back. As she passed by, I caught a glimpse of the name of a town on the back of her shirt for just a nanosecond.

“My sister mentioned a walker in the park,” she said, “who always tells people to have a good day.” I tried to think of a witty response, but all I could come up with was, “Yes, I’ve heard there’s someone like that.” This ‘Good Morning’ walker was a phrase I had not heard, despite my habit of greeting everyone I met in the park. It was a small gesture, but it brightened the days of many people, including mine. This simple act of kindness, this ‘Good Morning’ from a stranger, became a beacon of hope in my life, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there is light.

Nomahegan Sunrise

“I think it’s you,” she added, and then explained how she runs several times a week but takes one day off to recuperate. I’m going home today, and I’m sure my sister will be surprised to hear that I met the ‘Good Morning‘ walker.

My knees are too old to run, but I walk every day,” I said. It’s become a part of my daily routine, a way to keep moving forward, both physically and emotionally.

Wow, that’s amazing!” she replied.

“Today marks my 1,500th consecutive day of walking,” I said. I have walked since I buried my wife, usually covering 7 or 8 miles a day.” Despite the loss, I explained I had found a way to keep moving forward, finding solace in the rhythm of my steps and the connections I made along the way.

I’m sorry for your loss, but it seems you have found a way to live and share a moment of zen with others,” she said as she waved and started to jog again.

My old legs started to stride again, returning to my usual pace. I had covered less than thirty yards when my friend ran past me. I needed to finish my run and get to my sister’s house,” she said. As I continued my walk, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace and connection, a reminder that even amid loss, there are moments of joy and human connection. I felt a warmth in my heart and a sense of gratitude for this unexpected encounter. Have a good day!” I called out as she went by. “Same to you,” her voice echoed behind me.