The Art Fair Amble

May 23, 2010


For me, one of the least satisfying kinds of walking is the air fair amble.
It’s like being on an obstacle course in slow motion. It’s certainly not conducive to beneficially raising one’s heart rate.
And there's no easy way to determine one’s stride and pace with so many sidesteps, stops and reverses.
Blocking my way are people, baby strollers, dogs and an occasional golf cart or wheelchair. Why do people bring dogs to these things?
Some of the people responsible for these obstructions are at the art fair for the same reason I am: To see what’s on display in the various booths.
But I’m also in the way of people, baby strollers, dogs and the occasional golf cart or wheelchair.
And to top it all off, I’m jaywalking.
I’m in the middle of Albert Street in downtown East Lansing, zig-zagging back and forth with hundreds of other jaywalkers. On any other day, we could be cited for crossing or occupying the street where there is no crosswalk.
Thank goodness the entire downtown has been barricaded to keep motorized traffic away from Albert and sections of Abbot Road and M.A.C. Avenue. The art fair area is pedestrian-friendly.
I sometimes wish that some downtown streets were open just to pedestrians all the time. Of course, I wouldn’t want MY street blocked. How would I get my car out?
I shouldn’t complain too much about the art fair amble. I knew the pace wouldn’t be anything like hurrying to Dem Hall Field in under 15 minutes to watch the start of band practice or trying to reach Coral Gables in 40 minutes or less.
I chose the Art Fest. I’m glad I went on this warm and sunny day, and I saved a lot of money by not buying anything.
And I think I set a new time record for my walk home from downtown. I shoulda, coulda, woulda visited the restroom at the Post restaurant if I had really considered the effects of downing a 20-ounce glass of Bell’s Oberon.

First steps

I do a fair amount of walking.
Sometimes I walk to save gasoline. Other times I’m trying to stay healthy. I know I’ll need plenty of staying power for our next stay in San Miguel de Allende, where almost everything is uphill.
When I walk I like to have a destination. Like church, Spartan Stadium, the Breslin Center or a nice place to eat.
Last month, after being released from jury duty in downtown Lansing, I walked home. It took 75 minutes.
In the last year or two, most of my walking is to breakfast twice a week and a Weight Watchers meeting once a week.
My usual breakfast place in Coral Gables, two-point-two miles from home. An occasional other place is the Flap Jack Shack, which I call Flappies, about one mile away. The Weight Watchers site, which I call Weights, is in Frandor, also about one mile away.
I’ve stopped thinking so much about my walks in distances, but in times.
The first few times I walked to the Gables, I allowed nearly an hour. But fifty-five minutes became too big of an allowance. I’d have to stand outside until Alex unlocked the door at 7 a.m.
So I started allowing 50 minutes, and later 45 minutes.
I now adjust my pace according to the time I leave the house. If it’s 6:10, I go at an easy, relaxed pace. If it’s 6:15, I pick it up a bit. If it’s 6:20, I can still make it by 7 with some extra effort.
Flappies is about 20 minutes and Weights is about 25. Earlier this month, the friend I meet on Wednesdays at the Gables joined me for a five-kilometer walk competition on the MSU campus. We started at the parking ramp on Trowbridge near the Communication Arts Building, went east, then north, west and south to the Kellogg Center and finally east to the fifty-yard line in Spartan Stadium.
Five kilometers is three-point-eleven miles. We covered the distance in less than an hour. Thanks to a computer that recorded the times and paces of all the walkers, we learned that Jim and I averaged a mile every 17 minutes. That’s roughly 3.5 miles per hour.
Not bad for a couple of old guys. We finished one-two, two-tenths of a second apart, in our age group, which had only four people in it.
At that pace, it should take me about thirty-eight and a half minutes to get to the Gables if I feel like it.
Jim doesn’t walk to the Gables for breakfast. He lives out in Shaftsburg and has opted to drive the eleven or so miles. If I lived that far, I might try walking a time or two.
Anyway, next year, I’m not going to let Jim beat me in the five-K.