BY STEVE JANOSKI
The transition from working blue-collar jobs to working at a desk was a difficult one for me. The language I used had to be mildly cleaner, the aura was more laid back, and I was no longer working with a bunch of cats that can sit around and compare the quality of the Gatorade that's served at the state's various county jails.
The most unexpected part, however, was the gut that I began to get, as instead of doing five miles worth of walking every day while lifting stone or metal, I was sitting around drinking coffee for most of the day.
Without a change in eating habits, this meant that in a year, I was 15 pounds heavier than I wanted to be at too young of an age - I was still lifting weights, but I wasn't getting all of the non-exercise physical activity that I used to.
This could not go on, I decided.
At the time, I had just gotten a lab-mix puppy named Lola that was either born wild or had a secret PCP stash that she didn't let us on to, so I resolved to begin walking the little maniac every night as a way of tiring her out and getting myself moving more.
We only walked at night, because I have always been slightly anti-social and didn't want to have to converse with every wandering soul in my neighborhood. Lola had no problem with that - she's slightly anti-social as well, and feels the same about dogs as I do about people.
Every night, we ambled along in the brutal frigidness of the New Jersey winter, making our way through the gentle hills of my neighborhood, and I began to join the long line of men (and dogs, I'm sure) that found solace walking through the lonely night.
There are many characters throughout history who found that same comfort- the French philosopher Jean Jacques Rousseau was known to take long walks about Paris, and used the time as a respite from the ever-modernizing society he lived in.
“These hours of solitude and meditation are the only ones in the day during which I am fully myself and for myself, without diversion, without obstacle, and during which I can truly claim to be what nature willed,” he wrote in his “Reveries of a Solitary Walker.”
Benjamin Franklin was another who enjoyed the strenuous work of simply moving, saying once in a letter to his son that, “There is more in one mile's walking on foot than in five on horseback.”
Boxers have long known the benefits of walking - an 1825 manual called “The Art and Practice of Boxing” advised walking at least two miles a day in between skill training, while heavyweight legend Rocky Marciano was known to walk for miles at night, regardless of whether he was preparing for a fight or not.
“His idea of a little walk is five miles out and five miles back after a meal. It keeps his legs in shape and, besides, it perks up his appetite,” said Rocky's trainer Charlie Goldman in 1953.
I found this to be true as well, as with a tighter diet and a couple miles a night, I began to drop weight.
Day after day though, I discovered other little nuances that being free of the protective shell of a Ford endowed me.
After a month, I could tell which houses had fireplaces by the thick aroma of burning wood that rolled out into the streets.
I watched as the constellations leisurely rambled across the night sky, and noticed that the water in a nearby reservoir had frozen in the shape of waves. The world truly does fall away at night, and gives us a glimpse of that which we've ignored when we're racing around in the streets.
One night, we stumbled upon a herd of a half-dozen deer - I caught the sight of their glinting eyes in the road first; Lola kept walking in a merry fog until I yanked her leash.
“Aren't you supposed to see them before I do?” I asked her sarcastically. She looked at me dismissively.
Four months and many arctic miles later, I'm back at my fighting weight of 171.
Of course, as the nights get warmer and life gets busy again, it's easy to get lazy.
“We'll go tomorrow…I've got stuff to do,” I say to her…but she won't let me forget, and perks up anytime I put a jacket on after dusk, watching me with her curious ears up.
“Not tonight pup. Tomorrow.”
Her eyes follow me, accusing. Before I leave, I turn to look at her again, sighing. Her eyes are bright, questioning.
“Alright dog. Let's go. A quick one though.”
She's out the door before me every time.
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