Walking, Talking, and Drumming for Coldplay--Wise Choices

Image by author

It was a magnificent day to be outside, and everyone knew it. This must have been clear to anyone with a drone view of the area, or to a bird: scads of people along the side of the road, in their yards, scattered about on the trail, everywhere, and dogs, too. Spring had, without question, sprung.

I was upbeat. Shorts and short-sleeved shirt for the first time this year. A pack on my back with a water bottle because no doubt, I’d be thirsty. I had goals — walk six miles, enjoy nature, be in the moment, think through my novel’s premise, listen to some tunes. I’d add: while listening to tunes, pretend I’m the drummer for Coldplay.

The walk wouldn’t take too long. I knew I’d be back with plenty of time to get to the day’s task list, so I set out to have an efficient time traversing distance on a beautiful spring day. Everything went according to plan, except for the efficient part. The walk took far longer than planned, thanks to the feature of my personality I call the golden retriever. That, and the fact that there were excessive opportunities for this golden retriever to do its tail-wagging, beeline-it-over to-say-hi thing.

Throughout the walk, I was faced with a choice — one benefit over another, original plan over opportunity, speedy walk over real connection. It became a lesson in choosing what I could really use at that moment, but also how that choice would influence my future. Sometimes that’s hard to determine, but it’s worth consideration.

The first test came as I approached a woman in the distance on the trail. I knew her and her dogs and was happy to say hello, but her dogs are tiny, so their pace was slow, which would cut into my pace goal. Yet, I slowed to a crawl, and we began one of our chats, which we’ll do when we run into each other. One thing led to another, and suddenly she told me that if I ever wanted to do a long hike together, she’d be up for it.

Just like that, in exchange for a fast-paced mile, I discovered a neighborhood acquaintance likes and trusts me enough to spend a day together. Was the exchange worth it? Yes.

I continued, this woman turning one way, I the other. I left the trail for what I consider the area’s best hill, which I’m always looking to climb — good cardio. My mission to get six miles in at an elevated heart rate was still in play. This hill would be a big contributor.

I entered the neighborhood that hosts this incline. It didn’t take long before I could see a group — two grandparents, two parents, a random neighbor, and two young kids maneuvering battery-charged mini race cars. These were gifts from the grandparents, I discovered later, and this might have been why the grandparents were so clearly invested in watching the small racers fly up and down the street, back and forth, NASCAR for beginners.

There was no way I could pass them without a short hello. The kids had me in a state of awe as much as a fit of giggles. I hadn’t known there were contraptions that five-year-olds could drive as if they were on a motor speedway. I did know how hilarious kids can be.

I loved every second of this pause in my cardio goal. I chatted it up with the adults while keeping an eye on the small racers. I worried for their safety as the boy in the mini-McLaren climbed the hill I was about to climb. He’d chug the machine up, up, up, turn, and fly down this suburban speedway. The others were busy chatting, laughing, and texting, so they didn’t seem as concerned. I shrugged. Ah well. This was a stretch of road that ends in a cul-de-sac, so not much traffic.

After talking and laughing for a good twenty minutes, we all exchanged goodbyes as I started out again, climbing the hill, getting back to my goal. I took it at a good clip and soon was cresting the incline when I saw a boy crouched in a front yard between a low fence and a bush, just next to the road. He could see me, I him. He held his finger to his lips. “Don’t say I’m here.”

Wait. What?

Then I saw the girl counting down on the front porch, eyes obscured by hands, when she yelled, “Ready or not! Here I come!”

I turned to the other side of the road and smiled at the old man working in his yard. I waved.

“You know, we could make some cash on this deal. I’ll stay quiet for a fee.”

He laughed. I see him often when I walk that hill. He’s friendly and diligent, a true yard custodian, raking, mulching, weeding. Dedicated. I stopped, and we discussed the weather and the neighborhood racetrack. We looked over at the crouching boy and discovered he’d been found. The monetization option was off the table.

I wished the man a good day and continued. It’s always nice to say hi to him, exchange some joke or pleasantry, to connect genuinely, even though our words might sound like entry-level conversation. Over time, our words have morphed into a collaboration of “I’m happy to see you.”

Down the way, I ran into two sets of ladies walking. We laughed about the fact that we had shorts on and in a few days, there was a chance of snow. When you do something like this, laugh about the weather or clothes, about the common-ground mundane, what you do underneath is log one more data point in your brain that our experience isn’t rare and that we have company.

While each of us is one in a bunch of billions, we’re one of a whole.

I turned to walk down the hill. I passed by the racecar drivers, waved, and turned back onto the trail to head home. I looked at my watch and gasped. Then I smiled and gave myself the ole thumbs up. The walk was taking forever, but it had given back eternity. It’s so easy for me to look at my day as a commodity of time — which it is — but this obscures the fact that it’s also a commodity of goodness.

I realized as I walked home that I’d chosen the right path. The world is funky these days, and connecting with others is a needed resource. I’m glad I could see this in real-time. I put my tunes back on and resumed my role as Coldplay’s drummer. I always knew I missed my calling.

---

Hope you're doing well, friends.