Morning At the Mall, Part 3

When I got back to my starting point on the upper level, I went downstairs, thinking I might find fewer people, because the food places are mostly upstairs, and wondering if there would be an age difference, like younger people downstairs. Yes, to both. So the sub-culture was also divided by floors.

What greeted me immediately was a sizeable group of young women, all with strollers, gathered in front of the permanently closed door of Mervyn’s, now defunct. I counted. Ten of them, and they had a leader. She was saying, “This time I want passionate walking. Passionate. Right? And when we get back to Sears we’ll do our abs.” Off they went.

I said, “Do you have a name?”

The leader said, “Stroller Stride.”

I may have said another “Cool.” I hope not. I know I did say, “Ten of you.”

“Well,” she said, “the number varies depending on who’s sick or whose kids are sick. Like mine,” and she showed me her empty double stroller.

“But you’re here,” I said. What I meant was, “How come you’re here if your kids are sick?” But she thought I was commending her, so she answered, quite proud of herself, “Yes, I’m here,” and she hurried off to catch up with the group.

I knew why she was here. She’s the leader. Vital to the cause of passionate walking.

At Sears they were on floor mats, doing their abs, except for their leader, who was standing above them counting and calling out instructions. And they had picked up a man. Full red beard and lots of red hair on his head. He was on a mat, doing his abs. I think he had a stroller, but I’m not sure.

At 10 o’clock I had made my two rounds and so went out to my car, got the shoes, did the return, and determined I’d wait a few minutes then walk the upstairs again. Which I did.

Now the mall was open, all the stores, and I could see shoppers among the walkers. You can tell a walker from a shopper. It’s easy. No purse, and generally the walker makes no stops at the stores, although earlier I did see a walker here or there look in and wave at the workers preparing to open up. These walkers are "regulars."

I did stop at stores, twice. Once at Macy’s upper level to look at sleepwear for my pregnant daughter and once in Sears, also on the upper level, to look at their TVs. Brief stops. No purchases.

When I exited Sears, here came a guy, mid-forties or so, really moving. He had to tip and bank to make the turn without slowing down. His uniform was not complete, no sweatshirt, no water, only pants, t-shirt, walking shoes, but his face and his stride showed him to be an intense walker who did not want to be slowed down. So I stopped him. Sometimes I’m like that.

“Isn’t this hard on your knees?” I asked as he tried to cruise by me. This question I really did want an answer for.

“I’ve had my knees done,” he said, “so I’m okay for a while.” Wow. He looked young to have had his “knees done,” which I assume means he is no longer using the knees he was born with.

Near Macy’s I saw a mother and daughter. They were sweating, and, yes, they both had sweatshirts around their waists and carried water. I stopped them and asked the knee question.

“Oh no,” said the daughter. “This is good for you. I always feel good after I walk every morning.”

“What did she ask?” said the mother.

“She asked if this walking is hard on our knees.”

“Oh no,” said the mother. “It’s good. I asked my rheumatologist.”

“I know,” I said, “but asphalt gives. This surface doesn’t. And I’m just . . .”

“No, no. It’s too cold to walk outside. Besides, my rheumatologist says this is good. She says it won’t hurt the knees.”

Well okay, I say to myself, not convinced because of how my left knee is feeling. And I’m thinking, “Yes, I know walking is good for you. I’ve walked. I could tell you a thing or two about walking, I bet, like four marathons. (So, you had to bring that up, did you, Carol.) But let’s get your rheumatologist down here and let her make five or ten brisk laps a day for a month on this stuff. Then see what she says.”

I didn’t say any of that out loud, of course. I mean, I didn’t come to the mall to make a point about walking surfaces and their effect upon feet, knees, or hips. I didn’t come to have a debate even. I really came to return my shoes.