Man, there are few things I hate more than slow walkers. I am that person who weaves around people on the sidewalk like I’m playing a game of frogger. I walk like I’m running late for a terribly important meeting even when I have all the time in the world. I get sidewalk rage. Crowded sidewalks with slow walkers make me visibly irritated so much so that, when I lived in Banff, I walked back alleys during summer months to avoid the perpetual cattle call of casual strollers. In other words, slow walkers are one of my biggest pet peeves.
Except that now I am a slow walker, albeit temporarily. It’s one thing to not be able to run or hike, but it’s quite another to have to walk at the hobbled pace of an 80 year old. As I made my way through the airport yesterday, I couldn’t help but feel like everyone was staring at this young person with her inexplicably short steps and impossibly slow pace. I wanted to have a sign that read “I’m injured, not just slow.” And yes, I realize that people weren’t actually staring at me. The point is, I really struggle with not being able to walk as quickly as usual. A lot.
On the plus side, when we visited Banff today for a leisurely stroll down the main strip, I fit right in with the average tourist’s pace. So I guess there’s that. I’m just glad it’s a temporary phase for me and that, knock on wood, I will be back to my usual brisk pace by the end of the week.