Yesterday afternoon I put on shorts, a long-sleeved shirt, cushioned tennis socks and laced up my black Mephistos. Then at 2:40 I walked out of River Reach, up SW 9th Street, through the Tarpon River neighborhood, over the 7th Ave. bridge, in front of the Performing Arts Center, and down 2nd Street (past the still empty Village Pie). At Tarpon Bend restaurant I hung a right until I came to the Riverwalk, which I followed under the Andrews Ave. bridge and to the Sun-Sentinel building.
A half an hour had passed; my shirt was mapped with small pockets of sweat. (Validation for never having walked to work.) I thought of walking in and asking to see the editor, but instead I followed the river until I had to loop up to Las Olas. Rain forced me to take a break under an awning by Galler, the Belgian chocolate shop. It lasted for about five minutes, and then I walked down to the Floridian, where I picked up a copy of New Times which I read standing up. It didn't seem right to sit in the middle of an extended walk.
Then I turned around and walked home. It was 4:20 when I got here. My wet shirt now clung to my body. My feet felt fine until I took off my socks, and then the balls of both soles started to burn. This weekend I'm contemplating a walk to the beach.
