First to Last

The first person I spoke to, before we walked out of St.Clairsville, was a man who stopped to ask about the world. He then thanked me for my efforts. His wife was diabetic. He told me of a recent episode where she lost consciousness, despite her best efforts to regulate her medications. He urged me to keep spreading the message.
The last person to speak to me was the parish priest at St. Michael's, after I had walked into Wheeling and been offered to park at St Michael's School. The principal of the school and I met in line at a nearby store. As the sun fell over Wheeling I was visited by Father McSweeney of the parish. He told me he has two brothers with diabetes. Both had passed on from the disease.
As he walked away he said in his thick Irish accent, "Peace. Joy. All good things."

The Fork in the Road

The first time I walked thru Cambridge I turned to the road that led to Steubenville along US-22. Since then that route has become clogged with "fracking" traffic. During the break from the road, when Nice (the dog) twisted his foot, I retraced the steps of years ago. Even without the increased volume of gas exploration vehicles and the Walmart rigs traveling to the new distribution hub I was lucky to have made it through. Many of the places where I had walked at night back then would now be more risky because the flow of trucks is almost constant now. I have learned to avoid narrow roads with guardrails tight along both sides of he road. Many spots along 22 I would now skip by, taking a ride or letting the air out of the world and transporting it in the van.
Part of the "drive" to walk to Pittsburg a second time was to reflect on what I have learned in the past six years. When I came to the fork in the road I decided to take the less traveled road to Wheeling, West Virginia. It was relaxing to walk along the Old National Highway,US-40, and the back roads for the past few days, without the constant traffic. Now I am approaching the outskirts of Wheeling. The roads are filling up again. It may be a few miles farther than the road I took six years ago, but it has been much more relaxed.

The note...

Going to school.

We were invited to talk to the entire seventh grade class at the middle school in New Concord. I transported the world there in the van. We inflated the world in the gymnasium where I spoke to them about my journeys, my family who have suffered from diabetes and the many who have shared their success, through activity and healthy diet, in preventing and controlling the disease. I also encouraged the class to learn who in the school are diabetic, what they can do do help if their classmate is in distress. I answered questions, then we had a group photo before Nice was surrounded with attention and petting hands.

New Concord

Our first day back from the two week rest for the dog's sprain went very well. The beastly heat changed to cool days and the trees have begun to turn. Nice (the dog) knew why I we had stopped two weeks past because each time he began to tug and play with the leash all I had to do was tell him to stop one time. He gets smarter with age.
I saw the young man who saved me from a tornado at the end of the day. He had been one of the first to break me of my stupid pride and insist we put the world in the bed of his truck and race the wall cloud that was bearing down on us. As I held onto the world the clouds overtook us and a great wind tossed the world out of the bed of his truck and ripped the lacings off the ball. I found out later a funnel had touched down very near where he had found me helplessly holding the world as it lifted off the ground. That was a lesson in" Pride can get you hurt."
Thanks Tyler!

Back to Hick's Road

Two weeks have passed since Nice (the dog) sprained his wrist while playing tug the leash. We have been visiting family and I have had the world out in Monroeville, Pennsylvania where my diabetic, 86 year old uncle lives. We walked a short distance together. The world got soaked there by a sudden hard rain, so when I arrived to visit my sister in Arlington, Virginia I had to get it out to let it dry. We walked for hours . I inflated the world when I arrived in Louisville. I saw my son. I walked the 2 1/2 mile loop in the park where I first began playing with my boy so many years ago. I reflected endlessly about how this toy-world has changed my life and has inspired others to change. Nice (the dog) has healed well and is anxious to walk more than a couple miles a day. He hasn't shown any signs of a limp in a week and is stronger than when we began this journey in the beginning of August. It is time to continue, before he pulls my arm out of socket.

Uncle Bernie

This is the man I have been talking about for six years. I began these long walks by trying to get to his surprise birthday party in 2007.
Just a few years late... I took a wrong turn in Sheboygan.

The Twist

We were walking along the East Pike out of Zanesville toward Norwich when Nice (the dog), while frolicking by my side, twisted is right front foot. He began to limp badly. Luckily we were a few hundred yards from an intersection with a gas station/store, a restaurant and a hotel. We rolled/limped to the station. As we were walking across to a shade spot on the side of the store a State Patrolman pulled up to ask what the world was all about. I explained my mission and quickly explained that the dog had just sprained his foot and asked for a ride to retrieve the van. He was on his way back to the post (I had passed it earlier). My van was parked a short distance farther . He agreed, so I tied the world to the shade tree and we got in the back of his cruiser.
Fifteen minutes after his injury we were back to the van and Nice was off his feet.
When we returned to the world I parked at the restaurant next to a shade tree , got Nice comfortable in the grass and a bowl of water then went in the diner for lunch. The manager didn't mind me using the space for awhile so I stayed to see how Nice was doing. After a couple of hours it was clear that an overnight rest to recover from a twisted foot was not going to be enough. I decided it was time to pull the plug on the world.
The next few days are forecast to be hot so I am going to let him rest, then see if he is ready.
Every goal has a twist. Sometimes the twist changes everything.
I am following this road to look back on what I have learned from the time we walked it six years ago.
I think it is time to stop for a paws.

Testimonials

A woman stopped to ask my purpose.
After hearing what I had to say she told that she was diabetic. At one time she had to give herself five shots a day. She told me by walking, and loosing weight, she was now free of medication.
When I walk, the people I meet are my inspirations to find a way to continue.
Another woman was talking with me who told me she had been so large she could not leave her room. She was unable to fit past the doorway of her bedroom. She was now a small person that I would have never guessed had a problem with her weight. She said she began to eat healthy and when she was finally able to get out the door she walked. Rolling her eyes she said it took a lot of walking. She said it took some time but she did it.
I haven't been posting about the many people I have met on this walk who have similar stories. Whether they are insulin dependent and stay healthy with activity and diet, have been able to cease taking medications through their own efforts or (like me) are preventing the onset of diabetes by taking preventative "steps" they all take steps. They keep going.

New Holland to Zanesville, again.

In case you did not know, I walked this road six years ago. It was the first long walk we had done. My diabetic Uncle was turning eighty. For his surprise birthday celebration I walked to Pittsburg, PA..
I remember the places I had to stop from exhaustion and the physical strain of carrying too much weight, eating heavy unhealthy food and carbonated beverages, walking until I could walk no farther and would have to lay down.
Retracing my steps, the stops, the hills and ditch ways I charged through, the gifts of food I accepted it is clear to me now I needed to slow down. Not charge up an in incline and not accept every can of soda, candy, fried food, burger and pizza that good intentioned people brought me.
Now I walk the path with a calmer pace, walk slower uphill, eat mostly fruit, vegetables and baked chicken ( I share most with Nice (the dog).) I go longer and farther, with more energy.
It did take my walking six thousand miles and then some to be standing on the coast of Oregon to get one message...
"Don't put diesel fuel in a sports-car."
The winds of the Dakotas taught me about the futility of battling gravity and the elements.
Walking through Zanesville I am almost embarrassed looking back. But like a child, sometimes you have to do it, to don't it.

Blanket

I had a blanket, for years it kept me warm.
A tear welled up as I walked to the garbage container.
The time had come to let it go.
It had no holes, no frayed seams.
By tossing it away I felt like I let go of some pain, sweat...and tears, anxiety, loneliness and doubt that I have slept under for so long.
No amount of washing could mask the funk it had absorbed. Literally and figuratively.
That, in introspection, is why the "comforter" was so hard to give up.
Necessary and symbolic.
Goodbye blanket...

"too awesome!"

It had been a long distance under the hot sun. We stopped at a shade tree in front of a white-fenced house just past a farm equipment business.
It seemed familiar to me. I had stopped at this spot before.
I removed my shoulder bag and pack, sat down for a proper snack & let-my-shirt- dry-rest.
After a few minutes a man drove in the drive and off in the grass before coming over to talk. He was a calm and deliberate presence. We had met here before. He owned the property and the farm implement store. He hadn't changed, this he attributed to healthy living. The same morning meal of oats "out of the box", nuts and berries everyday. As he told me about how he had developed his business, his advocacy for "no-till" farming and his philosophy on life I remembered him more clearly from before. He was what he preached, consistent and calm, deliberate and patient. Just as he had been when I met him six years ago.
We talked awhile before the excitement.
Two women stopped to talk.
A man pulled of the roadway, trotted over to us, handed me a drink, told me he'd heard what I was doing and had to bring me something. Then he turned right around and went back to his car.
The women left also.
The man and I resumed our conversation in the grass, under the shade.
The world was in the sun thirty feet from the road and twenty feet from where we were sitting.
Then a loud skidding sound from a car slamming on the brakes caused me to look up to see a car had over steered and his right rear contacted the left rear of the man's car who had stopped to hand me a soda. He had been waiting to pull back into traffic. No one was hurt, but it was very dramatic with pieces flying as the speeding car glanced off the good gentleman's car.
There was hardly a pause in the calm farmer's conversation.
We kept talking. The farmers daughter pulled in with her two children. His wife arrived. We talked about healthy things and after about twenty minutes I thought it was time to "mosey" on into Wilmington.
I crossed to the opposite side of the road.
As I passed I called over to the scene of the accident asking if everyone was alright. To my surprise everyone was smiling. The man who had hit the other called back that they were okay adding, " It's because you're too awesome!"
I don't know about that...
I