The third mile

I've been a walker/talker for a long time. There's something about ambling along with a friend that makes it easier to talk. Maybe it appeals to my tendency to avoid eye contact. Maybe it's indicative of a kinesthetic learning tendency. Maybe it's simply just less targeted and allows for natural tangents and periods of easy silence.

Some of my favorite memories with girl friends involve walking together. Conversations flow, something I don't feel normally happen with me. I remember early morning walks with friends in college, late night walks in Chicago, and walks all hours of the day and night in Seattle. Early morning walks around campus were calm (except for the odd cockroach scurrying across our paths). Chicago creates rapid punctuations in conversation from things like intersections, interesting shops, and the general frenzy of the city. Seattle was smoother. My favorite places to walk with friends were Alki Beach and Green Lake. Here in Florida, I've found that place. It's a local park where, like Green Lake, one circuit around is one mile. This discovery has been one of the biggest things in finally feeling like I live here.

No matter where I've walked, though, I've noticed a trend. Mile three. There's something about mile three that changes. By that point, we've hit our stride, and any changes in tempo are fairly reliable indicators of changes in the tone of conversation. It happened just about as we'd reach Kiwanis Park in Tempe to do a lap before heading back. It was predictable about the third lap of Green Lake in Seattle or the third lap around local park here in Florida. Not that conversations aren't meaningful prior to that, it just seems that mile three is the point at which we've walked off the catching up and goofing off and then begin to get into the nitty gritty of our lives.

I love the third mile along any footpath, sidewalk, or street. Mile three is one of the main reasons I love walking with friends. Guards go down and people open up more deeply after the first two. There may be more silence than before, but that time is spent watching the world as we walk by together. The birds, even the weather, and the world we walk by becomes something to enjoy and contemplate with more than a passing thought. We share those thoughts more readily and segue into relevant topics.

The problem, however, is that after the third mile is about when we start getting hungry, thirsty, or too cold/hot. We stop to take a break before either going on to the next activity or, more commonly, parting ways. I always feel a little sad about this because I inevitably come away encouraged, uplifted, and lighter. Regardless of who needed to talk and process the most, we both benefit. Even if we had a heavy conversation, the straightforward or oblique sharing of our lives is helpful.

But the conversations have to end. And maybe whether over cold gelato or a promise to get together soon, the limited time isn't really a problem. Maybe one mile's worth of raw conversation is best. Maybe it encourages us to meet and walk more frequently together. Certainly our bodies benefit, and I suspect our minds do too.