I have transitioned to North San Diego County, and in that process have moved to a place where sidewalks are not a consistent feature of the world around me. I have found a hill to rival that of the Pablo Stairs that I worked out on in San Francisco, and lucky for me that hill not only features a sidewalk but a paved path that cuts off from the street and loops around to a park that overlooks Carlsbad Lagoon.
You would think that a girl of the woods and nature would despise sidewalks, but the three-foot wide block of concrete running next to the streets is my last defense against what everyone else uses to get around--a vehicle. In living in three different states I have found Californians to be the least safe of drivers. In Ohio and Missouri drivers learn from weather and roadkill challenges enough to be a little better at it. Ask Stephen King what I mean by this sometime.
Still, I am learning to overcome my fear of drop-offs and reckless drivers. In this coming week I am transitioning to walking to the library, getting my exercise while forcing myself to take roads that have no other choice but to walk in six inches of gravel to get there.
I’m not looking forward to it. But the less I’m afraid of, the better.
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