Last week – twice – I got home from work and quickly swapped off my blazer and flats for a long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of running shoes. I was antsy all day and for some reason all I could think about was going for a walk. And last week – twice – I set out for these walks only to end up running and running and running. What started out as me thinking I would be walking around my neighborhood enjoying the nice fall weather ended up as me running about four or five miles in one direction away from my house.
And when I was done running and realized I was miles away from my house and had to walk home? I’d walk until I was tired of it – and then I’d call a particularly handsome bearded man who was gracious enough to come pick me up on the side of the road.
But one of the two times in my post-run walk, I called one of my oldest and most tried and true friends, Louie. She’d just started a new job and moved into a new apartment in New Jersey and I was eager to hear all about her recent adventures.
As I walked up and down and around the busy streets that act like Charlotte’s main artery for commuters and soccer moms, Louie and chatted all about what was going on in each of our corners of the east coast. We talked about work and friends and upcoming weddings and our families and all of the little details and rooted things that only friends who’ve known you since before the days of cell phones can keep up with.
You see, Louie is the friend of mine whose little round face and brown bangs are in the pictures from birthday parties back in kindergarten.