The long and short of it: After five million years of perfecting the art of walking upright, we’ve lost the battle in maintaining the spaces that welcome us on foot. And this feeds the cycle of our walking less, and thus rendering it less important. “Landscape design” has the sound of something effete and precious, an art practiced by the overeducated for the overcompensated. But it’s not. In fact, creating the right landscape may be central to our survival.
If we want to get people walking and experiencing their environment and community and avoiding the chronic diseases that are the burgeoning byproducts of sedentariness, it’s not enough to hector and cajole people. Landscaper designers must be teamed up with urban planners to create inviting habitat to lure people from their cocoons of steel.
In short, in working the land, we need to also pay attention to genetics, lest we evolve into limbless rubber balls. Or perhaps we’ll regress to a quadrupedal species, unable to move about without four limbs: Two feet on pedals and two hands on a wheel.
Or perhaps we'll become peripatetic cyborgs who walk in place on machines while watching TV or listening to music through headphones, being that actual evolution is not limited to the unimaginative value-judgments of your romantic fantasies. Speaking of which, my trusty treadmill passed away a few days ago, after more than eight years of loyal, regular service. Thousands, literally thousands of glorious miles spent in each other's company. Not bad at all for the cheapest, most basic model being sold at the time. If I unreservedly recommend Proform for all your inauthentic walking needs, could I perhaps get a sponsorship from the company? For a free treadmill, hell, yes, I'll gladly put the company logo in the sidebar and urge all of you to contribute to Curtis's dyspepsia by getting one yourself. If not, this would be a good time for one of my fabulously wealthy lurking readers to step out of the shadows and become a benefactor. You want me to remain in good health to keep writing indefinitely, don't you? Maybe I'll even throw in a picture of my chiseled muscular legs as a bonus.