A lack of movement..

The sunshine nagged me up and out for a walk this morning. I had no place in mind, but headed towards town. I love walking. I love going for walks. If I get stir crazy I need to walk it off. Take to the streets and get moving. Let the changes in scenery blow away what's nettling me.
There was this woman I used to see at least 3 times every day around the village where I lived in Spain. She was always walking, with her wee bum bag, joggy gear, trainers and sunglasses on. I have never seen her stand still.
She sped walked. She was just skin and bone, but walked the same routes every single waking day. Round and round, una vuelta: una vuelta mas.. and on. Cutting this psychic path through the village. This deep tramline of restlessness.
 Did she feel that something would catch her if she stopped? Something inside her she didn't want to face? It clearly wasn't about fitness. She wore the same expression of concentrated purpose, but for what: to where?
Something about her constant clockwork motion unsettled me. I felt that I recognised an agitated element to her forever forwards march. Like that bus in Speed that will explode if it goes below a certain speed.
There are days I need to be on the move. To anywhere and back. Just on the move. As if to walk off the heid shite that might explode if I stop long enough and let it.  Not always, but often enough.
Or maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way and it's a good thing? Shaking off the staleness. Being pro-active when the Gods of Sloth want to rub me in butter and cook me in wine, simmering away to a thick bitter crust.

Whichever: today was a belter of a day. Proper heat in the sunshine, and bumping into an old friend who I've not seen for quite some time. Sometimes we do just need to get moving to put ourselves in the mix. Agitate the day and see what rises to the top.

Onwards. ¡Pa' fuera!