Every so often, I would get on an exercise kick while living in Japan. I would don my roomiest t-shirt, snap on my headphones, lug my enormous Sony Walkman and head out the door. The year was 1996.
I would run along rice paddies, spotting a heron or two as the sun started to descend. With Natalie Merchant blaring from my headphones, I would start vigorously enough, only to peter out about half a mile into the run.
It was peaceful among those rice fields. Crickets and frogs would snicker and bleat, and I felt strangely connected to the world as I wiped away imaginary sweat. I would walk for another hour or so, emptying my anxious thoughts and worries. Sometimes I wish I could meander through rice paddy mazes again, without a care in the world, transported to a place of possibilities.
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