Walkies

I continue to wake very early, between 4 and 5am, but I’ve agreed a kind of ceasefire with my insomnia: I won’t try to get rid of it so long as it leaves my sanity (largely) intact. And lonely though 4am is, that seems to be working for now.

By the time early dog-walkers begin to stir, I’m also ready for a walk. My physiotherapist says that’s the best kind of exercise for the Parkinson’s as it helps maintain balance (and confidence in balance). Does nothing for my growing pouch, but there we are. I often take my MP3 player because music with a strong beat helps me walk faster and more ‘normally’, i.e. swinging the arms and striking down with the heels, rather than shuffling along with hands in pockets to hide the stiffness. (I particularly recommend Leonard Cohen's Sisters of Mercy.) I think this effect of the beat is quite common for PD and similar to the effect of patterned floors – it is as if the clear rhythm releases some blockage in the motor system.

Mostly I walk alone, but at weekends and sometimes if I walk in the afternoon or evening, Marie comes too. She follows from the front, marching out with almost military pace and rhythm, while I limp and hobble along behind – like some chubby, middle-aged Igor. Almost invariably, she makes me go further, or faster, or more uphill, or over rougher terrain than I would have if alone. She claims this is good for me – well, she would. In some desperation, I brought my small camera along one day to give me an excuse to stop and catch my breath while pretending to admire this or that manifestation of Nature (of which Marie approves). It turned out to be rather interesting, though, and I am now building quite a collection of close-ups of bark and gnarled roots and contrasting leaves. In fact, I have punished Marie for her annoying enthusiasm by spending too much money on a new and better camera, and making her carry around a large sheet of coloured cardboard on walks in the woods so that I always have a monochrome background to hand. Serves her right, and distracts the attention of other walkers from any oddness in my gait.

I’ve even started to enjoy the walking for its own sake. It helps me reclaim body and mind when either is at risk of seizing up, and if nothing else, it makes me happy when its over. The trick to mimicking normal movement seems to be to pretend to myself that all is well and normal, but to keep my eyes firmly focused on the ground directly in front of me – because I fear that if I lose sight of where the feet go, I might fall To give the system some credit, I have never fallen yet (though there is always a first time…).