I used to time myself.
I would crank up Map My Run on my phone and time my walk. I would check my pace, elapsed time, and my route. Could I walk under 16 minutes per mile? Let’s see! Pick up the pace, big dog!
But lately, I’ve left that all behind. I’ve started slowing down to notice what the big dog notices.
For her, it’s all about the squirrels and bunnies. I can barely see my way down the street, and she sees the bunnies on the side of the road. She never misses a squirrel scampering across the street. My eyes aren’t that good. Not in the early morning light.
She sees other walkers and dog walkers from hundreds of yards away. She catches them way off in the distance. Little dogs, big dogs, couples, joggers, and one older guy who walks by. Now I see them coming, too.
Surprisingly, she also picks up on hawks, airplanes, and drones. Somehow she knows where there are interesting things overhead. She glances up and follows them flying by. I stop and look up, too.
When I’m moving slower, I notice the colors in the sky. Mostly pinks and oranges at dawn. They only last a moment, so I have to pay attention. And I’m glad I do.
She remembers, too. She remembers where every other dog in the neighborhood lives. As we approach and pass each house, she gets excited. I forgot; she remembers. That spaniel. Or that chihuahua. The pretty golden retriever. The sheepdog mix. The woofing mixed breed. She remembers.
Singing birds? She hears them. Cardnals. Bluebirds. Mockingbirds. Crows. Hawks. Sparrows. They all start singing at the same time. They all got the memo. They wake up the morning (and me) with their song.
The big dog jumps when a dumpster bangs, an engine backfires, a key fob beeps, an air conditioner starts up, or a garage door opens. What? What’s that? She hears everything.
So now I notice, see, and hear everything. And you know what? It’s worth slowing down.
Waite for it... 