My daughter started kindergarten in August at a school that is 0.4 miles from our house. She’s an old hand at this, you see, as she attended pre-school at the same school and we walk to school every day.
Mommy takes a different route than Daddy, or so I hear. Sometimes we walk to the local bakery after school or stop for a beer (for me; she eats edamame) at the local micro-brewery. We cross the street at two intersections–one is signalized and another has a marked crosswalk.
“Sometimes the cars stop for us, Daddy” she says. “But only sometimes.” Sadly, only sometimes.
My daughter views this daily jaunt up the hill to school as an adventure. She doesn’t know that it’s exercise. About 1/3 of the way to school is her “wishing rock.” It’s nothing more than a pile of stones where the sidewalk ends into a utility pole. We routinely stop to talk about woolly worms crawling up a retaining wall. We look at the oak trees to see if the acorns are sprouting. We stop to talk to Frank–an elderly gentleman who lives along our walk route and sits on his porch most afternoons.
I have come to view her daily experience–and mine–as much more than physical activity. I view it as invaluable bonding time with my daughter. We have conversations about monkey bars, her friend’s upcoming birthday party, and her last weekend with Grandma–all without distractions such as smart phones, satellite radio and other drivers.
Sometimes my warped mind views this daily walk in “performance measures.” I guess that’s how I’m programmed.
In all, I estimate we have walked her to school 200 days per year since she was three years’ old. That equates to 800 trips (400 round-trips) on foot over the course of two years. That means she has walked a minimum of 320 miles just getting to and from school before she even entered kindergarten.
320 miles! More than 800,000 steps! 266 hours of walking! More than 30,000 calories burned! As a pre-schooler!
Yeah, I think in performance measures.
More than that, it means she has enjoyed 800 unique experiences exploring her own neighborhood. She connects with nature. She learns how to respect our elders. She compliments passersby about their dogs, their backpacks and their bicycles. She’s focused and ready to learn when we arrive at school. She decompresses from a long day on the walk home (as do I).
From this I realize that changing our habits and becoming more active happens one person, one family at a time–and it can be a powerful experience!