I can't believe it's taken me THIS LONG to write about THIS TOPIC!

Here's a question for you: what is the human race's greatest evolutionary accomplishment?

From Freddie's perspective, no one in this photo is taking advantage of it!

This guy is, however.

Freddie's opinions notwithstanding, I'm guessing the most common answer to my question would be our Big, Fat Brain. Although Australopithecus afarensis (above) is a pretty fit and human-looking fellow, apparently even the smartest of his species would have had trouble filling out a tax return or composing an essay on global warming ... maybe even lacing up a pair of shoes.

So, yes, our Homo sapien brain is an obvious candidate for the evolution prize. But that organ has also gotten us into a lot of deep doo-doo (like, say, global warming?). So I'm going to go out on a limb (an activity our prehistoric ancestors were very adept at) and say that our greatest evolutionary success is ..... BIPEDALISM. Upright walking!

500 Miles?

Which isn't, maybe, an indefensible point to argue. After all, if our species had never straightened up — freeing the hands, giving the eyes distant horizons to look at — would our brains have accomplished all that they have?

 
In any case, walking — After Midnight, On Sunshine, Like an Egyptian — is a very fine thing, and a blog titled Walking With Freddie should certainly have something to say about the topic!

Before I get much further, however, I must acknowledge that, of course, not everyone can walk. Injury, illness, developmental mishaps, etc. mean that we're not all pedestrians, at least not all the time — and that kind of sucks. Many people find other ways of reaping similar benefits, though, and I hope that if I ever lose the ability to propel myself on my own two pegs I'll find a workable alternative ... and that I'll continue to find pleasure in the Platonic idea of walking.

Johnny Cash Walking the Line at San Quentin

On a related note, plenty of bigger brains than mine have thought about the physical/psychological/philosophical/cognitive/social/spiritual wonders of walking. Our good friend Bruce, a philosophy prof at Thompson Rivers University, teaches whole courses on walking. His many fascinating sub-topics include such things as the connection between walking and Romanticism and "walking as a subversive act in the age of the car." Now, doesn't that make you want to sign up? It does me!

 
This blog post (and the next one) are clearly just baby steps in the big field of thinking about walking, but if they inspire any of you, my dear readers, to ponder your pedalism, then I'll consider them a success.

In thinking about my own walking life, I'm struck today by something I've always taken for granted: I walked to school. Every day, four times a day (I usually went home for lunch), in all weathers (uphill both ways, of course), kindergarten to grade twelve. Sometimes with a friend, but usually alone.

 
I even walked home after fainting in grade one, just before the 3:00 bell. It was hot, and I was overdressed. I guess my teacher thought that removing my woolly cardigan and sending me off for a nice walk in the fresh air was the best thing to do, and she was probably right.

In any case, I realize now that all that walking to and from school was really quite an important part of my youth. Aside from gym class, it was the only rigorously regular form of exercise I got. Walking kept me connected to the outside world and the changing seasons (more dramatic back in Montreal, where my commuter footwear ranged from loafers to fake mukluks to welly boots to sandals). Most importantly, perhaps, it gave me quiet thinking time — every day, four times a day.

22 Feet A-Walkin'

Sometimes Freddie and I walk past elementary schools in the morning and see strings of cars dropping off kids. I know people have all sorts of reasons, some more compelling than others, for driving their kids to school. But whatever the reason(s), I can't help thinking those young'uns are missing out on something.

And now, as a working adult, even though I bicycle to the college where I teach (towing Freddie in his trailer), and even though I tend to pace back and forth at the front of the classroom, I sometimes wish my job required me to walk. Substantial distances, every day. Like, say .....

a Postie!

I'm sure that delivering the daily mail would, like any gig, have its drawbacks (some of which I've learned about from my friend Gary). But I also think it would be very groovy — especially if I had Freddie along.

Maybe Freddie and I could pioneer our college's first ambulatory English classes. Now, that would be groovy.

Anyway, stay tuned for the next installment of WWF, in which our top reasons for the grooviness of walking will be revealed!

Happy Trails!