I would walk along the quais when I had finished work or when I was trying to think something out. It was easier to think if I was walking and doing something or seeing people doing something that they understood.
— Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
Kristen Jeffers
I walk first and foremost because I have two feet and two legs that work. So many people worldwide don’t even have that, and I try to make it a habit to count my most basic blessings. A cousin of mine walked with his family down to the ocean one August afternoon almost two years ago. Yet, unlike the rest of our family, he was not able to walk back to shore. A swimming accident has left him gradually trying to regain strength in all of his extremities. Walking is only a goal, a distant dream right now. He has not given up, but it makes me think about how the simple act of using one’s two feet and two legs to propel oneself could be snatched away at any moment.
When we use the word walkability in the professional planning sector, there is a focus on what able-bodied people can or cannot do. We also only focus on what I would call “choice” walkers, people who drive to a “town center” district or their original central business district, now revived, to take in a play at the regional theater, drink and be merry at the local microbrewery, or plan the next revolution at the local coffeehouse.
While we are holding our cup of coffee, talking about how to fix poverty, poverty walks right by that window all day long. Poverty can’t afford a car. Actually, poverty used to have a car until he wrecked it after a fight with a friend. Poverty was also paralyzed just like my cousin, but he gradually regained strength — seemingly miraculously, but helped because he was once a state government employee with good health insurance that allowed him the hospital stay he needed. Poverty’s also young enough that he’s not ready to sit down and his brain is quite lucid. He knows his way around a tool shed and literally can bring light to dark rooms, from his years of training and working as a licensed electrician. Poverty’s also the reason I’m here, because poverty’s known to me as Dad.
When I was little, Dad was determined that I would know how to read a map and know how to get myself around. When I was little, that consisted of walking the streets of our neighborhood. Our neighborhood was built in the first wave of suburban construction after World War II. It was all white at one point, despite being home to both single-family, owner-occupied homes and a housing project. A colleague of mine had a parent who grew up there in those days. I grew up in the days when pizza delivery was nonexistent, drugs were rampant, and most of the faces on my block were as brown as my own. Yet, as I walked or later biked down the street, many of those neighbors looked out for me and made my trips very exciting and fun.
It’s those memories that I draw from when I walk and bike today. I know what it’s like to bike and walk for fun. I know what it’s like to walk and bike because that’s your only choice. I fortunately do not know what it’s like to not have that choice. Yet, all three of these make me continue to be involved in the movement for complete streets. Sure, my dad or I could walk through unmarked grassy areas next to a four-lane road, but can my cousin do that? Is it really safe to be only inches from sixty-mile-an-hour traffic? My hope is that now that I’m in a position of privilege, with a driver’s license, a working, fuel-efficient car and an office just a fifteen-minute walk away from my newish luxury apartment, I can tell others that it’s not just people like my dad who walk. Everyone with an able body can walk. And if they have smaller wheels than a car, then there’s room on the sidewalk for them, too.
— Kristen Jeffers
Raleigh, NC
I hope this book has inspired you, made you laugh and, most importantly, moved you to action. People often say to me, “It all sounds great, but how can I do that? How can I walk during the day where I live, when I don’t live in Savannah or some other walkable place?” Fortunately, no matter where we live, there’s a lot each of us can do. Here are a few possibilities:
1. Walk more — now.
It really is that easy. If you live someplace where you have destinations you can walk to within a ten- or fifteen-minute walk, start doing so daily. If you live somewhere where things are farther away, at least start walking more for recreation. Get in the habit. Walk a mile a day at first, which takes the average person about twenty minutes. Eventually make that walk two miles per day. Make the effort to walk to shops, parks, friends’ houses or other nearby destinations. Force yourself to do things others might think is strange, such as walking across parking lots at large strip malls. Walking is great for your health even if it’s just for recreation, so start doing it today. And support those local businesses that make life easier for walkers. People often say, “Oh, but I commute,” or “Oh, but I have kids to cart around all day.” Don’t succumb to Oh-buts. There’s always a reason to say “I can’t.” But life is far more interesting when we learn to say “I can.”
2. Bike more — now.
Bikes are cheap, and they’re fun. Remember learning how to ride a bike as a kid? It really is as easy as jumping back on. It’s amazing how quickly that sensation of fun comes back when you’re on two wheels. Even better, the bike allows you to get to a lot of destinations that are farther away. So if you live somewhere that makes walking to places difficult, try the bike. Ride on the sidewalk if you have to in order to build confidence. Do whatever it takes to get used to that feeling again. But please — don’t buy Spandex!
3. Encourage others to walk and bike, especially young people.
Now that you’ve gotten yourself going, encourage others to try it, too. Talk with your family, your friends, and that kid next door. Become a positive, but not annoying, example to everyone else. Getting kids going is so important, since good and bad habits start early. As the saying goes, be the change you want to see.
4. Move, if you’re able to.
That’s right, I’m telling you to pack up and relocate. It’s not as difficult as you think. I moved halfway across the country to a place where I knew almost no one. You can certainly move across town to a neighborhood that is better for walking. Take the chance, and you’ll never look back. We ultimately vote with our feet, so find that great place and go.
Finally, make your voice heard for better walking and biking infrastructure, zoning reform and better buildings. I don’t expect everyone to be as passionate about this as I am. But once the bug hits, you may find that you want to do more. That’s great: your community needs you and your passion. More than anything, our cities need people who can speak up for better sidewalks, better-protected bike lanes, slower traffic speeds, and so much more. We have decades of bad ideas to undo, from building too much parking to ramming freeways through cities. Some of your time can be spent on small and quick efforts — look up Tactical Urbanism and Build a Better Block for examples. Other civic efforts may take years of your time to push back against the car culture that has been a cancer on our neighborhoods for far too long. We need you. Make your presence felt.
Kids love walkable places.
For my part, I simply plan to keep walking and keep working on making walking easier for others. The changes I’ve made in my life have enriched it far more than I could have imagined, and my hope is that more people can enjoy the same benefits. This life that is lived outdoors more often, using my own body to get around, feels very natural and, well, human. At forty-three, I feel as healthy and happy as I ever have, and am living a lifestyle that I’ve wanted for many years.
But tomorrow is Tuesday, and it’s time to get ready for the day. Just another ordinary Tuesday, with places to go, people to see — and walks to take.
John Mullarkey and Dean Klinkenberg
We live in an old city neighborhood, old for the US, anyway. My partner and I chose to live in this neighborhood because of the variety of places we can get to on foot. From our house, we can walk to one of the best botanical gardens in the world; to a lovely, Victorian-inspired park; and to a thriving business district where we can eat Thai, Vietnamese, Italian, classic American or Ethiopian food or grab a drink at a corner bar, a dance bar or a dive bar. Sometimes we walk to these places because we want the exercise. Sometimes we walk to avoid fighting confused suburbanites for a parking spot. Usually we walk just because we can.
On a typical walk, we may hear the squeak of sneakers on concrete, the ping of a softball propelled by an aluminum bat, maybe someone yelling “Goal!” We slow our pace to admire the intricate masonry designs executed by nineteenth-century immigrants to St. Louis who sculpted patterns with bricks fired a couple of miles away. We stop to talk to neighbors and friends. We walk because it reminds us where we are.
— Dean Klinkenberg and John Mullarkey
St. Louis, MO