On such trips, my goal is to minimize the amount of time I wait at an intersection. I'm also pretty much against doing anything unnecessary (like retracing my steps) to 'keep moving'. As an added bonus on this particular night, it was raining lightly- thus, each second I shaved off my walking time would keep me just a little bit drier.
The path was simple- walk straight for a few blocks before turning left- so my plan was not complex. I would walk for as long as possible along the right hand side until I was forced by a traffic light to stop. Since all the streets in this part of the city are one-way, it made sense to cross at this point. Once on the left hand side, I would resume walking toward Fairfield Street.
I reached the first intersection, at Arlington Street, and glanced both ways before crossing. I noticed a person on the other side of Newbury Street doing the same thing before crossing. We reached the other side at almost the exact same time.
My timing at the next stoplight was almost perfect. The walk signal came on just as I reached the curb. I glanced right, then left, before stepping into Boylston Street. Again, I saw the same person from earlier on the other side of Newbury. We entered our crosswalks simultaneously and continued on, mirror images moving in the same direction on the brightly lit street.
The next street, Clarendon, was approaching. Once more, the walk signal allowed me to continue without pause. As I crossed, I again looked both ways. No surprise, I was still in perfect sync with the pedestrian across the street.
This time, I took a closer look. I realized it was a woman walking a dog on a long leash. I had somehow missed the pet on my two prior glances. We both finished crossing on our own sides of the street and continued on.
It was probably best that we were on opposite sides, I thought. Nobody I knew woke up thinking, "You know what would be a good idea? Walking in lockstep alongside a complete stranger and her dog down several city blocks!" Plus, with the rain coming down, that dog was liable to shake itself dry at any point. Maybe my jeans would get soaked. And the peeing! Who trusts dogs, especially those on a long leash?
My hand was forced, though, when I came to the red light at Dartmouth Street. The walk signal was a firm orange hand- as if a crossing guard had just polished off an industrial sized bag of Cheetos- and I was long past the age to start a dangerous new hobby like jaywalking. I acknowledge my reluctance to appear like a stalker, thought about all the socially unacceptable activities I'd seen a dog initiate on city streets, and weighed those against my trivial goal of minimizing overall walking time.
Efficiency trumped unease. I crossed Newbury Street and waited, finally on the same side of the street as the woman walking the dog. I wondered if I should try to make a quick start across the intersection, just to build some distance between us on the block leading up to Exeter Street.
However, when the light changed, the woman shot out in front of me. Perhaps I was too busy thinking to react immediately to the signal change. But as we walked down Newbury Street, the distance between us lengthened. The woman's pace was much faster than mine- perhaps not twice as fast but at least one and a half times my speed.
Just as I finished the thought, the woman stopped. Before I knew it, I had passed her and the dog, who was now sniffing the base of a mailbox. Just as quickly as I had passed the pair, though, they had once more passed me and retaken the lead of our procession.
And so it continued down Newbury, the lead being exchanged every few feet as the dog raced ahead, stopped, did something unproductive, and raced ahead again. Once more, we arrived at the next intersection at the same time.
But at no point on the block did we ever walk at the same pace.
So, what's the point of this story?
Maybe I wanted to highlight how easily our tendency to recognize patterns leads to false conclusions. We are all great at recognizing patterns, especially on average, but correlation and causation are two separate concepts. Intuition suggests what precedes an event contributes to its cause. But nighttime darkness does not cause sunrise.
It could be my comment on the flawed nature of storytelling. There is self-deception inherent to any story people tell about themselves. Perhaps the stories people tell to themselves are the most deceiving of all. Storytelling is all in good fun, usually, but when I really want to know what's going on in my life, I make honest observations and resist the temptation to seek narratives.
Perhaps this is a tale about measurement. There is an appropriate frequency at which to track anything. Infrequent measurements miss the details. Measure too often and you lose the forest for the trees. Measurements that miss the point tend to get manipulated later to fit a narrative arc that is neater than the true story.
Or maybe there is a lesson here in the illusion of control. Is it the lender or the debtor who is more powerful? Do we own the pet or does the pet own us? It's possible that the answer changes, depending on the interest involved.
I suppose it could be any or none of those things. A combination of the above is possible. It really comes down to how each individual sees it. Perspective counts, so much so that sometimes the same event, viewed from opposite sides of the street, come off as unquestionably different.
The obstacles I faced in 2016 demanded a lot of work. In some ways, it was the most work I've ever faced in my life. As I met and overcame some of these challenges, I learned the value of looking at problems from new perspectives.
The process manifested a little differently each time. At some crossroads, I was beckoned across by a signal or sign. At others, I checked for traffic before jaywalking. And longtime readers know that I preferred to bike, when possible, mostly through green lights and never at anyone else's pace.
But no matter the method, the importance of finding a new vantage point remained constant. The results- better understanding of my assumptions, exposure to new environments, taking more honest assessments of situations- have exposed me to truths about my best self and shown me ways to involve that self more consistently in the things I do each day.
It gets at a simple question that everyone's heard- what do you want to be when you grow up? The answer, for me, has always been elusive. I'm coming around now to the possibility that maybe the question is the wrong one for me.
The better question might be- how do I want to be when I grow up? That's an easier question to answer. It requires doing the hard work needed to understand what is truly going on rather than relying on lazy assumptions. It means making no comparisons until I've done the work necessary to do so. It means recognizing that everyone gets to the same destination at their own pace, whether they are on the left or the right. If I do how things every day, the what will take care of itself.
It's an ongoing process. It's rarely pretty, far from complete, and sometimes makes me wonder if others look at me like a weirdo. But in reflecting back on the year, I'm happy with the approach I took. I'm looking forward to seeking new vantage points as I continue to rise to the many challenges that I will encounter during the next stage of my life.
