Day One My mom joined me for the first few miles. One rule: no music or podcasts. I ate an unreasonably large dose of lasagna. Primarily sidewalks and railtrails, with one minor foray into a busy road. I ended the day sore with a pinky toe blister. Mostly anticlimactic, but proud I completed 18 miles. read more
Day Two I set off feeling better than expected. It was jarring to go from rail trail to sidewalk to road shoulder to woods. I emerged from the trees to a festive autumn scene with a band playing a Green Day cover. I tried to buy a single cider donut but they only sold them by the bag. read more
Day Three Every step on my pinky toe hurt. I learned the value of a walking stick. By this point, the walk lost the romantic light I’d painted it in. It was nothing special, it was just walking. I forded a shallow stream to shave off a couple of miles. I ate more lasagna. read more
Day Four Boredom gave way to invention. I came up with various acorn-inspired games to help pass the steps. For a brief moment, I was convinced a figure approaching in a matching fluorescent yellow hoodie was a parallel universe version of myself. It wasn’t. I met a farmer named Herb (perfect farmer name). read more
Day Five A heavy fog blanketed the roads on my first 20-mile day. I dabbled in trespassing and came out unscathed. That night at a pub, I met an old guy who was the most excited person I’d met about my walk. I introduced myself: I'm Russell. Me too! he said. read more
Costello: You’re walking to where?
Abbott: Ware.
Costello: That’s what I want to know. Where?
Abbott: That’s right.
Costello: What town are you going to?
Abbott: Ware.
Costello: In Massachusetts.
Abbott: Yes.
Costello: Here is a map. Show me where.
Abbott: It’s right there.
Costello: Where is right there?
Abbott: Yes.
Costello: Where?
Abbott: That’s right.
Costello: Let’s try this again. Where is your first stop?
Abbott: Oh, absolutely.
Costello: Absolutely where?
Abbott: You got it.
Costello: *Flips table*.
Day Six Back on a rail trail, it was nice to shut off the traffic-watching part of my brain. I filled the stretches of marked quarter-miles by counting my steps at different paces. My internal jukebox was stuck in the sad-boy-90s phase of the walk. I spent the night with my family in Northampton. They came to give me a little morale boost before my final days. read more
Day Seven My hips and feet were tender. Self-doubt entered the chat. I didn’t know if I had it in me to climb the big hill ahead; it occurred to me I could get a ride and be home in under an hour. I stayed the night in a shed on a farm, amongst sheep and cows. read more
Day Eight I started before sunrise. Shortly after lunch I realized I could make it all the way home. I went into a sort of trance, detached from my body. I strolled through town as the sun set, opened my front door, and just sat on the steps, exhausted but proud. My feet were angry, but now could rest. read more
Day One My mom joined me for the first few miles. One rule: no music or podcasts. I ate an unreasonably large dose of lasagna. Primarily sidewalks and railtrails, with one minor foray into a busy road. I ended the day sore with a pinky toe blister. Mostly anticlimactic, but proud I completed 18 miles. read more
Day Two I set off feeling better than expected. It was jarring to go from rail trail to sidewalk to road shoulder to woods. I emerged from the trees to a festive autumn scene with a band playing a Green Day cover. I tried to buy a single cider donut but they only sold them by the bag. read more
Day Three Every step on my pinky toe hurt. I learned the value of a walking stick. By this point, the walk lost the romantic light I’d painted it in. It was nothing special, it was just walking. I forded a shallow stream to shave off a couple of miles. I ate more lasagna. read more
One week post-walk The farthest I’d walked was from the car to the grocery store. I visited my daughter’s class, a small group of four- and five-year-olds. They peppered me with questions. I nailed the interview. All in all, it was a good walk. read more
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