Walking and COVID-19 have spurred an unusual friendship
I have walked across the Sahara Dessert ... at least that’s what my Fitbit tracker proclaims.
After three decades of Jazzercise, my knees began to ache, and I knew I was ready to investigate alternative forms of exercise. In 2014 I accepted the fact that aerobics no longer did my body good, I began to walk four or five times a week.
When I first began my walking regimen, I was traveling on the side of the road. But before long, new housing developments were replacing farm fields close to our home and I was able to take advantage of the multitude of bike and walking paths. The paths are surprisingly quiet. When I do see someone while walking, I usually nod or say good morning.
One day I nodded to an older (probably my age!) gentleman as we passed,
heading in opposite directions. We began to bump into each other frequently, and moved from a nod to a quick hello or even a comment, usually by me, often about the weather — “Looks like another hot one.”
His response was often, “Yea, yea!” with a warm smile and distinct accent.
After multiple encounters, I introduced myself using just my first name. He told me his.
From the first day our paths crossed, I knew he was Asian, perhaps from India. I did not recognize the name he shared and asked him to repeat it an embarrassing number of times. When I walked away, I typed my phonetic interpretation into my phone, but when I got home I could not retrieve it.
And then COVID came along. Out of boredom, I followed new walking paths and sometimes even drove to
explore other neighborhoods. But, I regularly returned to my original path hoping to run into my friend. Weeks and then months went by without an encounter.
Under normal circumstances, my mind might not immediately jump to imagining the worst-case scenario but nothing about this pandemic felt normal. After all, we were both senior citizens and more susceptible to the COVID virus.
How would I know if my friend had been ill, or worse yet, not survived? I didn’t even know his name. Finally, our paths crossed again in early April. We both were relieved to see each other in the midst of COVID.
And then, once again, he disappeared. Once again, I began to imagine the worst.
On Sept. 1 after months and months of worrying and wondering, I saw my friend.
He was walking ahead of me on the path but I recognized him immediately. I sped up my pace; he turned around as I drew close. We both stopped in our tracks. It was such a relief discovering that neither of us had been slowed down by COVID.
“Is your family well?” I asked. “Yea, yea,” he answered smiling and nodding. “And, yours?”
“Very well.”
We were both so thankful to know COVID had not ended our random encounters.
As we stood smiling at each other, I commented on our unique connection. He raised his arm and pointed up toward “heaven.”
He seemed to be suggesting divine intervention.
Continuing on my walk, I felt a lightness propelling me forward. Fortunately, I have not lost family or close friends to this relentless virus but I know I would’ve been heartbroken if my fellow walker had been removed from my life.
I still do not know his name, but in some inexplainable way, that doesn’t really matter.
“Have a good day,” were his final words this morning.
I smiled and said, “It’s always a good day if our paths cross.”
“Yea, yea,” he agreed.
Eileen Covell, 72, lives in Plain City