Greater 8/5K: Julie, JJ, Linda, Michelle, Tammy, and Vickie
It’s an early February day in Iowa, and we have our first true cold-snap. The high is 10 degrees, with a wind-chill below zero, and this is the warmest it will be in the next two weeks. This Arctic freeze has potential to put a damper on the momentum my fellow hikers have gained this winter. I’m determined to not let us lose any ground. Because we’re from all over the state, I opt for a conference call on Saturday at 2 pm, the warmest time of the day at a whopping 10 degrees, with snow flurries.
Everyone calls in and we walk and talk. Most of the group is walking indoors, around their homes. Circling laps around their basements, or living rooms, pets and spouses giving them confused looks. We talk about what made us laugh this last year, who inspires us, the state of the pandemic, the weather.
We need each other. Even more than we know. During the pandemic, many of those small human connections have been lost. Sure, we’re able to connect virtually more than before, but is it enough to bridge this vast chasm of loneliness?
Loneliness is an epidemic, according to many researchers, and this was before the pandemic struck, leaving us more isolated than ever before. The social fabric that weaves us together has been chewed up in the washing machine, with gaping holes, frayed edges. How do we begin to patch and mend, creating an even more beautiful crazy quilt, if you will, out of the remnants that remain? Do we cut new squares that we haven’t even imagined or thought of yet? What if we’re too exhausted and depleted from the monotony to even try?
And so, this is why I am now walking in 10-degree weather, when it’s snowing, with my earbuds in, chatting with my friends. We are walking together, but separately. We weave a thread of connection between us. I’m breathing heavily while I walk up the hill, and Blaze reminds me to be careful and not slip. She’s like the mother hen of our group at 71 (I think), still encouraging over the phone line.
We walk, we laugh, we sigh and groan at the latest political climate, even though we come from different perspectives. Is this the modern-day quilting bee? At the end of 30 minutes, we marvel at how quickly the time has passed. Some of the group opt to stay on the line for another mile or so. Would we have walked today without each other? Maybe. But when we walked, we knew we weren’t alone.
I know the research that shows how we connect with each other when we are walking/dancing/moving together in person, our energy syncing. I would venture something similar happened today.
In loving memory of Vickie Stephens, aka “Blaze.”