I’ve been walking every day this winter. People who love me want me to buy a treadmill. Not a chance. I’m not going to do it. They want me to stay off the road. They are afraid I will get hit by a car and die. I’m afraid if I walk on a treadmill I will wish I was dead or perish of boredom.
I really don’t want a treadmill because I don’t walk for punishment, but for refreshment. Nothing about walking on the treadmill seems refreshing to me. You can’t hear the birdsongs on a treadmill. You can’t watch the sunrise in the basement. You can’t feel the chill of the wind in your face. The earth doesn’t rise and fall under your feet. It never spits rain or snow. On a treadmill in the basement you will not smell the freshness of rain or the coming of spring or the fragrance of burning wood. How sad would it be to live in a world without the fragrance of burning wood. You never pass a neighbor with a friendly greeting or another human out walking their dog.
I would much rather have a little hardship or adjustment or challenge than unbroken boredom. So I’ll put on my reflective vest and get my little flashlight and bundle up and see if I can get down to the corner where the only traffic is deer and wild turkeys and if I get hit by a car on the way there or back, at least you know I didn’t die of boredom.
P.S. For those of you who love me and want me to be safe, thank you. I love you too. For those of you who love treadmills, bless you. That is a matter of Christian freedom. 🙂
Bittersweet Farm
January 9, 2023
