When Walking Is Faster Than Driving

This morning we had one of those dreaded early morning snow storms.  I pulled on my clodhopper shoes with the deep treads, cinched tight my scarf, donned my wool hat, and set out into the cold morning for my walk to work as the snowflakes pelted down.

IMG_4800About 20 minutes later — pretty much the standard time — I arrived at the office, face ruddy from the walk.  As time passed I dimly became aware that other people were struggling to make it to work.  When I heard a co-worker bemoan her two-hour commute, I realized that by walking I had dodged a bullet in the form of a rush-hour snow storm.

I hate to admit it, but I felt kind of good when I heard other people at the office  tell their commuting horror stories.  It legitimized our decision to move to German Village in the first place, because part of the motivation for the move was to avoid the ball-busting weather-delayed drives.  I wouldn’t quite describe my reaction as schadenfreude — because I wasn’t exactly reveling in the misfortune of others — but it was similar, because I was feeling good about the action we had taken to avoid experiencing such misfortune myself.

I’m very much enjoying my walks into work.

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