Walking My Way to Artistic Greatness
- stephaniewilson
- Apr 1
- 5 min read
It started when my son texted me.
“Nice try.”
Nice try? I texted back.
“What do you mean?”
“Nice try on your walk.”
Ahh. My walk.
Earlier, I’d set out on a walk, but then saw my neighbor in her driveway, so I stopped and chatted. This prompted me to turn off my Garmin watch, which was recording a GPS track of my walk. I racked up 4/100th of a mile in 44 seconds.
My son is my only Garmin app “friend.” When he gets notifications of my walks, he can see a map of the route. This is when I learned he’d been looking at my walks.
This is also when my brain engaged Steph’s Practical Joke Neural Network. This is a major network in my brain that always looks for the next opportunity for silliness. It saw one dangling in front of my Garmin watch.
If my son could see an image of a line delineating where I’ve walked, wouldn’t it be funny if, when he opened the next notification, he saw a silly word? Well, no — it wouldn’t be funny. It would be hilarious.
Thus, my big hairy audacious goal was born — to make my son laugh.
Since my son is a mature, serious, smart, and successful young man, you know I was thinking “poopy” or “yo dawg.” But in time, I settled on “whazz up?”
First, I studied. Looking at my past walks, I could see how big of an expanse I’d need to spell even one word. It was substantial. I couldn’t very well spell “poopy” with houses in my way.
A big, flat field was what I’d need — or, better, a mall parking lot. I went with the latter.
The thing with a big goal is, once you’re working toward it, you’re sure of two things at different times. One, that you’ll never reach it or you’ll fail. And, two, it’s the best goal you ever thought of, and you’re going to be famous. These play off each other as you persist toward completion. It’s an up-down seesaw of defeatism and delusion of grandeur.
But you do even out at times. This is when you get into the flow of the process and have fun working toward your hairy goal.
I drove to the mall on the first morning of Project Silly Word, which I assumed would be the only morning of the project. Unbeknownst to me, walking out a word with your Garmin tracker is not easy.
I parked my car. Grabbed my phone for music — gotta have music — and took a last swig of water before the fun began. I knew in my bones this would be the most fun thing possible. I’d be chuckling and giggling. “Whazz up” would be a breeze.
This was my first delusion of grandeur.
Once I walked to the far edge of the mall parking lot, I turned and surveyed the expanse in front of me. I mentally mapped out how I’d walk through my practical joke. I pressed “start” on my watch, and off I went.
Walk, walk. Turn, turn. I wound this way and that. I looked up to see where I was. Then, repeat. Mostly, I was confused. I barely had a clue about what I was doing.
Finally, I pressed “stop” and waited for the Garmin tracking app to load. I bit my lip and tapped my foot. I had no idea what I was about to see, but I had high hopes and a tinge of delusion.
Then, drumroll. Coming in at one mile — Whazz up?
I don’t know what you think, but I was crestfallen. This is what I got for all that effort?!
I had hope as I drove home. While my practical joke wasn’t perfect, I thought it was possible my son would get the gist of it.
“Did you see my latest walk?” I asked him.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“Whazz up?”
He got it! I was elated. He was grinning. I was satisfied. My son isn’t one to overreact. It was a decent showing for a practical joke, however, I realized my big audacious goal might not make me famous.
This had me reassess my expectations. It was clear this idea of mine — which might have you questioning my sanity — was not as spectacular as I’d first imagined. Maybe it could use some improvement. My next walk-word would go big on planning and precision.
Back to the mall I went.
I had a new project. I told my writing class I’d make them an artistic surprise for our last class. They were expecting a masterpiece, no doubt. What they were going to get was a flower drawn by foot on a large parking lot, and to do that, I’d map things out like any famous mall parking lot walker should.
First, I walked the whole area off, counting steps from the middle of the lot to north, south, east, and west. Next, I dropped little stone markers at all the points along a giant circle: N, NE, E, SE, S, SW, W, NW.
Now, I had a true map from which to walk a somewhat precise circle — the center of the flower. From there, I’d meticulously walk each of its petals, a stem, and two leaves. I walked to my starting point, took a deep breath, and started my watch. My flower masterpiece began. My delusions of grandeur had been squelched, but my hope was through the roof.
Throughout the walk, I was obsessively aware of each step. It was not a fun, relaxing walk. I was hyper-aware the whole time. As I neared the end of my walk-drawing, putting the finishing touches — or steps — on the last of the leaves, I got emotional. I realized this nutso idea had taken my imagination and run with it. I genuinely cared about this goal. I wanted to boost someone’s day, even if just a little.
I pressed “stop” on my watch and waited for the walk to load. When I heard the beep, I opened my phone app and looked. There it was — my 1.4 mile flower. I burst into tears. I’m not kidding.
I was surprised. Why had I cared so much about this little practical joke? But tiny goals can grow in importance once you invest yourself in them.
Goals are the oddest things. They can seem gargantuan but then shrink as we work towards them. We can see them through various lenses, too — overly rosy, hopeless, or indifferent. But, as we work and persist, the goal settles into reality and becomes our new normal.
Yet, how can we know whether they’ll be worth it? This walking-drawing goal took way more time than I’d bargained for, but I kept at it because it was worth it to at least try to make my son — and then my writing buddies — laugh. Even just a little.
And I did. And all I have to say about that is, Woohoo!
Hope you're well, friends.
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