The Power of Walking

It took our ancestors millions of years to erect themselves from quadrupedal primates to bipedal hominids. It took ages for our spines to form the ergonomic posture of the signature S-curve that distribute our weight properly. It took eons for our toes to splay the right way and for our hips to develop so that the femur plugs in at the side to allow for a forward lift of the leg. Along with walking upright came adjustments to the pelvis, the knee, the foot, the arm, and the torso. And maybe the mind.

Why do we walk instead of crawl? What benefit does it have for mankind to be long and linear rather than squat and robust? Some scientists say the switch from knuckle-walking to tippy-toeing was efficacious because it allowed us to raise our vantage so as to see over the tall grasses of the savanna plains. Others say that posting our spines perpendicular to the earth's surface reduced the amount of our body exposed to the sun, offering the benefit of a climate controlled comfort: less exposure to the sun means (especially in the tropics of Africa) easier regulation of basal metabolism. The less skin exposed to direct sunlight (remember these were the days before parasols and sombreros) the fewer calories used to stay a cool 98.6 degrees.

There are plenty of other theories as to why our bodies defied gravity and reached toward the sky: walking upright freed our hands to develop tools and forage; once we descended from the trees, we ceased to brachiate and therefore our legs became the primary mode of transport; it was too difficult to rotate the layers of our Rubix cubes and walk with our hands at the same time.

Last night I went walking. I didn't know where I was going, what I was looking for, or whether I would find it. But I felt that there was some point to walking, some purpose to it, some teleology behind it. I'm sure the first proto-hominid who walked upright didn't have any idea why he was walking, he just did it felt like it had promise. If walking upright proved equally or disadvantageous, the proto-hominid would have abandoned the practice. Obviously he didn't.

I walked by the used car lots on Charlotte Pike. I walked by churches and synagogues. I walked by darkened parks and ponds. I walked by a private school where I heard fireworks and, listening closely, heard a faceless, microphoned voice announce the Homecoming Queen of Montgomery Bell Academy. I walked all the way to the interstate, and then I headed back to the place that is supposed to feel like home, but doesn't anymore.

On the way back I passed some drunken girls. I passed a cop doing double the speed limit, no doubt in pursuit of a late night snack. I walked by a mongrel in the parking lot of a bowling alley who eyed me skeptically, as though to lambaste me with, "What are you doing on two feet? Wanderers should be on all fours, you wonk."

When I came to the cave where I've stashed my atlatl and mammoth hides the balls of my feet were sore. And how. I checked a map. I'd walked over ten miles.

Ten miles is a lot by today's standard though it's nothing if you think back to our ancestors, the ones who walked from central Africa to the northern climes of Sweden or, even farther yet, to Mesoamerica where they learned to dine on capsicum fruits and sinewy chihuahuas.



Walking is a unique type of therapy. Driving doesn't do it. Flying doesn't do it. Riding a bike doesn't do it. Getting abducted by aliens doesn't do it. Walking does it. The walking cure, the pilgrimage, the sojourn. Walking is such an ancient way to get from point A to point B to do so helps us remember a time when there were fewer problems. When the only thing you had to worry about was, "Will I eat today or will I be eaten today?" and "Will I mate today or become meat today?" Walking harkens back to the days before concepts like commitment, promise, justice, propriety, respect, and honesty were unthought of because they didn't exist. Walking takes us to a simpler time. A time before technology, science, futurism, philosophy, space exploration, and nuclear weapons.

Bipedalism gave us the ability to carry greater and greater loads in our arms. I think I'll drop mine for a while. I've carried it long enough.