The title of this column, which is a renowned line from J.R.R. Tolkien’s novel, The Fellowship of the Ring, certainly rings true for me—although I have been known to become somewhat disoriented while wandering, especially in the woods.
At any rate, one of my favorite activities is to try to get my steps in—usually walking around my neighborhood, but I’ll walk practically anywhere if it’s not too hilly. Typically, the weather dictates specifically where I’ll go and since I acknowledge that I can no longer stand the heat, I refrain from walking outdoors when the temperature is akin to the surface of the sun. That goes for the dead of winter, too, when it’s windy or icy or unbearably cold. Instead, my husband and I opt for doing laps around the indoor track at Lycoming College—a wonderful facility that we are so fortunate to be able to use. As an added bonus, we get to interact with delightful college students and faculty as we cruise around the oval together, overlooking an enormous gymnasium below. They even pipe in music that permeates the entire space, although we usually bring our own tunes.
Naturally, the college kids lap me (usually running like the wind) which I take in stride because I have them by several decades, never mind their superior flexibility and lung capacity. But they never lord it over me, which I appreciate greatly. They smile and sometimes even offer words of encouragement or a friendly “hello.”
But sometimes it’s even too hot to walk there, as the outdoor heat tends to seep inside, especially on sunny days. And let us not forget my wretched hot flashes. I know I haven’t. I suppose I could join a gym, where it’s likely air-conditioned, and use a treadmill to my heart’s content. But I know myself. I signed up for a gym membership years ago, fully intending to frequent said facility and never once did so. I don’t know why exactly; I only know that. So, for me, that would be a total waste of money.
Instead, I do what I never once imagined I would do—I hike the vast acreage (i.e. the innumerable aisles) contained within in our local grocery stores. Needless to say, the temperatures are cool and comfortable, and the terrain is flat. There’s music, too. Not surprisingly, I’ll occasionally encounter a bottleneck of people and carts on my path, but that’s easy enough to navigate. What’s more, sometimes I’ll stumble upon someone I know and enjoy catching up with them, or I’ll notice a ridiculous sale on Milano cookies and feel compelled to gather an armload, which I’ll reluctantly haul around the rest of the store. Aside from that, it’s a perfect place to trek on pretty much any day of the week.
That said, I’ve become a glorified “mall walker,” the very group of people I used to silently judge because I couldn’t understand why they weren’t in a park or a neighborhood or slogging away on a treadmill somewhere. Now I get it. Only it’s grocery stores—not the mall.
Truth be told, I mostly prefer taking my daily jaunts through our neighborhood, in the fresh air and sunshine. As an added benefit, I run across friends, their kids and sometimes I even get to pet their dogs. If it’s after dusk, I enjoy seeing people’s windows aglow with warm, yellow light as I pass—especially in the winter. And because I’m a complete weirdo, I like to kick stones and step on dry leaves along my path, hearing a satisfying crunch beneath my feet. We always seem to have an abundance of leaves in our street so that’s a win for me. Thankfully, thick groves of old-growth trees envelop our neighborhood almost entirely, lush shrubbery and thickets lapping at the edges of the pavement. And there’s nothing that I love more than to be surrounded by woods in any season.
It’s true; not all those who wander are lost. Some are just trying to get their steps in, and along the way discover that the path they’ve chosen feels much like home.
Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (probably walking). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesFromPlanetMom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.
Copyright 2026 Melinda L. Wentzel
It’s January—time to make a comprehensive list of all the areas in our daily lives that desperately need improvement, or at the very least, tweaking. For many of us, that means dusting off the list we made LAST year. I for one have taken an inventory of my shortcomings these past few weeks and pledge to keep at least a handful of the New Year’s resolutions I’ve made AGAIN, despite the unlikely nature of lasting success. Here are the highlights.
Here we are, in the thick of February—a time at which I should be comfortably settling into the exercise routine I ostensibly adopted on New Year’s Day. But such is not the case. For whatever reason, I found Groundhog Day to be a more inspiring square on the calendar—possibly because Groundhog Day, the movie, made me realize what a horrible rut I had fallen into with regard to my physical self. Each day I repeated the same bit of idiocy—that of exercising an undying devotion to being sedentary. More specifically, the pathetic nature of my fitness program had come to be defined by walking my dogs, followed by the rigors of channel surfing.
Planet Mom 