The Walk

N.B. I wrote this in April 2001, the day after I took the walk. It preserves the way I felt about it at the time and I've only edited one word for this presentation.

I set out at 6am. I had slept from 5pm-11pm the previous night, so I was good to go in that respect. I grabbed a couple of granola bars and the all-important swiss army knife, and was off. It was still quite dark out and foggy; rain was forecast for the day but I didn't care, I had to go right now. Progress was of course quick and easy at first, and the sky crawled from black to gray, far too slowly. I took in the wildlife, ducks waddling around, a blanket of bird song, and a rabbit nibbling grass. In the less pleasant arena, I almost had to dance to avoid the infinity of earthworms that had been forced from their homes to the pavement by the previous night's rain.

After Ann Arbor proper came a series of utterly generic corporate buildings, with companies offering such diverse services as systems management, global solutions and 'frictionless business.' This wore on my attention a bit, but my energy was still good and the first rest came at 9am, to down some gas station gatorade outside an isolated row of shops. Within the next hour I passed through Saline, another quaint Michigan town with some nice stuff to look at and a portion of the population beginning their Saturdays. A cemetary contained an unusual gravestone, one that dwarfed all the others at roughly 7 feet long by 4 feet high, with "Anderson" written across in letters that looked more like a corporate logo than a memorial. I stopped again at 10am at a park near the bottom of the town to sit on a bench at the edge of a pond.

That proved to be a fateful juncture. I saw a sign around there that said "Clinton 11" and 11 miles sounded like a tall order, but I decided to play it by ear and hope to find a good place to turn back before Clinton. After walking for three and a half more hours, there had been nothing. No places to eat, no gas stations, just farm after farm with muddy fields, a few bare trees and wire fences. The only real distractions were a few horses and sheep, but unfortunately the population of dead animals hugely outnumbered that of live ones. There were too many raccoons to count, some rabbits, a deer, and a white baby goat with it's abdomen torn open and flies having it their way. Between these grisly sights and the constant menacing "ZOOM" sounds, I could not help but reaffirm my general dislike of cars. Oddly, the dogs of people who lived along the road didn't share my preference, because while they were unfazed at the lightning procession of vehicles, they would bark viciously, straining against their leashes or trying to find a way over fences, from the moment they saw me until I was well out of sight. No matter how far I was, across the road and behind a house, they had to either scare me away or let their owner know I posed some great threat. I was a bit put down that in trying to get away from the judgments of people, I found rejection even among the dogs. Another interesting cemetery: this one seemed dominated by the Finkbeiner family, which had no less than 12 (and probably more) gravestones to their name. A bit later I passed a house whose mailbox bore the Finkbeiner name--the lucky people who haven't joined their relatives yet.

I tried to occupy my mind as best I could in the doldrums, mostly by throwing my gatorade bottle in the air and catching it, and singing loudly. Anything to combat the overwhelming nothingness. At 1:30pm I couldn't take it any more, and sat down on the side of the road to ponder the next course of action and throw rocks at a piece of a beer bottle that mysteriously still had the cap affixed. Clinton seemed an impractical goal; I was tired and sore and would have to double whatever I had just done. But the eateries of Saline would be 5pm, assuming I maintained my former speed. After two people stopped their cars to ask if I was alright, I was embarrassed and just got up and started walking the other way.

The badlands were just as bad on the way back, and worse. My fatigue was worsening and breaks became increasingly frequent. Around 3:30pm I stumbled upon a great resting spot that was hidden from the road, and cushioned by flattened stalks. This would have to be an extended rest, to really get some strength back instead of very temporary relief of the foot and leg muscle pains. The sun started to shine for real, for the first time all day, as I slept for two hours. I dreamt of [a girl] and phone books, though I don't believe the two were connected. When I woke up the leg pains were still in full force, but some energy and confidence had returned.

Somewhere in the next hour came the third and last incident of a car stopping for me. It was a relatively small one packed full of five college age people. Despite the crowd they refused any answer other than 'no' for the question of whether I was okay, and 'yes' for whether I needed a ride. When one of them (male) suddenly asked for my phone number I got suspicious and shooed them back onto the road as quickly as I could.

After another half hour nap among some trees, I finally reached Hungry Howie's at 7:10pm. The time wasn't bad at all accounting for my sleep, and I was extremely ready for some food other than the Gummi Dinos I had been subsisting on. After getting through half of the greasiest Italian sub known to man I set off again at 8pm, the sun just down. The signs of light, life and civilization of Saline were incredibly rejuvenating, even more than the food. The discouraging factors were that the distance left had taken 3.5 hours that morning, and that it was getting dark quickly. When I reached a McDonald's I decided to call Dave and get some words of encouragement, and if he were available possibly even give up and have him drive me the rest of the way. As I picked up the phone I suddenly had the urge to use the bathroom and ran into McD's. When I came back out my resolve had stiffened: I couldn't let him win and be right that this was a stupid idea.

Stumbling back through office building-land, the cars whizzed by stubbornly as ever and every 40 minutes or so, I would collapse and sleep for a few minutes on the relatively well-tended knolls. If it had ever been anything else, it was all psychology now. My feet exploded in pain with each step, my leg muscles prohibited long strides, and my chest started to ache, but the best thing to do was just keep going. Eventually the lights of Ann Arbor appeared in the distance, and familiar landmarks started to pass. Back in the town I stopped just once more, at a corner of State Street where I had to hide between a few evergreens to get some privacy. During my rest a single cough somehow managed to release the enzyme that caused my dinner to be rudely ejected from my mouth and nose. The icing on the cake, I thought, and cleaned up with some water before moving on.

The last several blocks are already something of a blur. I just kept moving until I fell on the floor of Joe's room for a surprisingly good episode of Saturday Night Live. 17.5 hours, 39 miles, a good day's work.