2/19/2006 - Walking in the moonlight

The virtual scene: It's a cold, clear night, perhaps 10-15 degrees Fahrenheit.  After a good day of walking, I rummage through my backpack.  I dine on cereals and dried fruits, boiling water for tea and reconstituted soup.  After dinner, I pack myself into my sleeping bag.  Listening to the wind from the safety of my tent, I gradually drift off to sleep.  Around 1am, I am awakened by a nearby howl.  Through the fog in my head, I manage to collect myself, pick up my tent and other belongings and drag them all 1,000 feet down Provincial route 403 in Ontario.

Sometimes I like to imagine myself to be truly on these roads.  I think about the drivers going by, the feel of the pavement, the excitement of passing through inhabited areas.  Of course sometimes, it's hard to connect my actual walking to my reverie. 

In order to maximize everyone's sleep, I tend to sleep with the baby.  When he sleeps with his mummy, he squirms and splutters and she sleeps very poorly.  So every night, I put him in his crib and sleep next to it, waiting for the series of howls that alert me the nightly meals enjoyed only by babies and sophomores.  In order to ensure the Wife her sleep, I pop on my pedometer and pace the halls until the baby is asleep, so I can lift him out of bed and back into his crib.  During a typical feeding, I can pick up over 400 steps.  It's a strange way to envision progress, but it makes for a good blog.

16,000 shuffling steps today.  Cheers,