JT's TALES FROM THE TRAIL

Hippies twirled behind the stage; cherubic kids ran wild, and the ladies behind me would not shut up, just like at the Tree House. The regulars were all there be we all look a lot older now.

My beliefs in regards to walking starting changing in my mid-fifties as I noticed myself developing a mental block against going for a run. Jogging was taking a toll on my body, causing me pain, and I found it increasingly difficult to motivate myself to lace up and hit the streets.

My commitment to exercise has waxed and waned over the decades - likely because I was motivated primarily by becoming a "stick chick," a goal that proved patently impossible to achieve. Rambling has changed how I regard exercise and I have never felt fitter.

We soon crossed the Mississippi state line and continued on Route 45 through Lee County - one among many places in this world named after men with ill-advised intentions. Route 45 was the first paved highway south of the Mason-Dixon Line - with its inaugural concrete laid down in 1914.

On this Funday Sunday, Cathy and I sat in our beach chairs, toes in the sand, watching a beautiful medley of human beings parade back and forth on the pier like an oddball fashion show. After a few drinks, we decided to choose a winner for the best-dressed woman in the bar.

The 'no pain, no gain' approach to fitness becomes less feasible as we age due to increased pain and decreased gain. Therefore, mid-life and beyond is an excellent time to start enjoying the benefits of moderate exercise, especially a daily walk.

As I listened, it fully sank in for the first time that the music I’ve inexplicably adored my entire life was born in Mississippi. My affection for twangy music from the American South is not often appreciated in Canada’s Pacific Northwest, with my hubby Stormy affectionately referring to it as Jill’s “plonkety plonk.”

Living in Pensacola was a journey that transformed my life in many interesting and beautiful ways, and it will be heartbreaking to leave. However, to travel like Stormy and I want to, we need to be less encumbered so it's time to go.

My advice about the best ramble is multi-faceted and depends on the day, but this was a particularly exceptional one. I think rambling is a beautiful way to test the waters of new friendships, deepen long-time friendships, and spoil yourself with the company of women. Good food also helps!

The thing in my life that I’ve felt most judged for is my leadership style. I’ve been called a bitch more times than I can count. I’m blunt, outspoken, assertive, proud, smart, action orientated, and sometimes difficult to get along with (all common characteristics of successful people).  

How is it possible that we’ve gone from this to having a miniature computer with us at all times, which we still refer to as “my phone” and yet rarely use to actually talk to people?

When you ramble, your curiosity determines your route. You might stop to explore a market or taste-test a taco truck. The goal is to relish in the details and, in doing so, facilitate the roaming of your mind alongside your body.

Today, even those raised by wolves are taught (mostly by ubiquitous internet memes) that wisdom comes with age. But only now, as I am skidding into my 6th decade, have I truly come to understand how true this is.

Through it all, I walked. During the worst of it, for several hours every day. I negotiated my obligations and endured overuse injuries to make space for long rambles for the sake of my sanity. 

Imagine your life is a jar that can contain only so much stuff. If everyone's jar is unique, how does one fill it consciously and purposefully.  The big things in my jar are family, friends, rambling, health, and traveling. I feel lucky to have this jar, but I also know it can all change on a dime.  

I like to work until late afternoon, then take a gummy and go for a long ramble, and later sleep like a teenager again. It's a routine I've come to enjoy, but I don't know if it is good, bad, or neutral. It's strange territory to navigate the availability of legal marijuana, slickly packaged for consumer consumption.

I wish I could say my preference for being fully clothed has nothing to do with my body image, but we all know that’s not true. I am naturally curvy, and we don’t live in an era where chubby is trendy. 

There wasn't a moment while I was flipping the cassette tape in my Sony Walkman that I thought to myself this is the last time I will ever do this. Yet I must have done it a last time.

Of course, not every selfie is an act of political demonstration against misogyny and the self-hatred it brings with it in tow. But posting a candid photo of yourself, with all your glorious, beautiful, well-earned lines, wrinkles, and sagging skin, is undoubtedly a rebellion of sorts.

Finally, we arrive at a massive, worn-out apartment building on a dodgy-looking street in Brooklyn. I rang the buzzer and went up. I was scared shitless and kept telling myself get in, get the signature, get out. The mom spotted my weakness and decided she wanted a day out.

We're old enough to understand we'll never see everything and are no longer compelled by the fear of missing out. We chose destinations with few other tourists because we like this kind of thing and have the time to do the necessary leg work.