On The Road Again…Walking

Man, there are a lotta dogs leading there masters around town out here in the Rose City.

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So up until about 6-weeks ago, my two least favorite irrelevant consecutive words were “bruin” and “football.” And true, you might argue for “Trump class” or “Bernie reality” in the oxymoron combo category but of more consequence to moi, there’s a new least fave double-leader in the clubhouse. I give you, or more accurately, I gave me: “Inguinal hernia!”

From the tube up my nose three fortnights ago to outpatient surgery last Friday and with four weeks to go (and counting), I’ve been walkin’.

And man, there are a lotta dogs leading there masters around town out here in the Rose City. Seinfeld once said, “Dogs are the leaders of the planet. If you see two life forms and one of ‘em’s making poop; the other one is carrying it for him, who would you assume is in charge?” After miles and miles of walking in Pasadena, I know two things for sure: I’m now being trailed by local cops…and I know who’s really in charge.

And yeah, if I was an owner, I’d be carrying too…but nothing approaching 20-lbs for at least the next four weeks.

I’m beginning to think walking is way more therapeutic than I ever thought, it’s actually bringing me out of my natural protective anti-social shell. Lately, I’m even comfortable looking total dog-following strangers straight in the eye with a smile and saying stuff like “Good morning.” And true, some of the streetwalkers (don’t be silly) seem to sense I’m a dentist and run away screaming and canine dragging…but then again, maybe that’s just my inner city surf gang swagger causing all of the intimidation.

Anyway, I used to live to eat; now, I walk. I walk, therefore I think, therefore I eat; therefore I am. Tomorrow morning I’ll renew my ritual walk-a-thon to the Newsstand, a Mexican scramble with the Sports Page and coffee at Yahaira’s, back to Vroman’s, and maybe even an independent flick next door at the Laemmle- not a bad way to spend a morning.

Today, on my way to breakfast I “walked” into a friend I hadn’t seen in almost two years; he’d been 86-ed from my fave neighborhood restaurant but so what, so had my best friend’s wife. In two years, his mother had died, he’d had an artificial hip placed, and had a cancer diagnosis. But a physician’s going the extra mile had my buddy back on his feet and bike and…on the road again.

On almost every Pasadena march, I visualize my dad walking freely without even a cane following the loss of his right leg below the knee, due to an ulcerated foot and diabetes. And there are a million reasons I’m proud of my dad but the picture showing up in my mind’s eye is most often my dad crossing Garvey Avenue wearing a prosthetic leg, but, for the world, not looking like it.

So with yet another B-day coming up in a few weeks, AARP brochures in the mail every other day, and total strangers asking me if I’ve retired; I’ve found walking to be great medicine for agitation. And my growing response to it all is: “I got your inguinal hernia right here! I’m on the road again…walking…to the gym, the golf course, knowledge…and making dentistry fun.”