Kenneth Garcia '08 Ph.D. | Notre Dame Magazine
Had I lived around 1143 A.D., my name might be: Ken Walker or, better, Ken, walker. My son might be: Michael, son of Walker, or Michael Walkerson. Since I was a teen I have walked a lot, usually solitary rambles outdoors. When in the country, I hike trails in the woods or along no trails at all; I let curiosity lead me.
On the Notre Dame campus where I work, I walk around its long quadrangles, its curving trails, its lakes. When winter arrives, I wander through the corridors of buildings. Fortunately, Notre Dame has many buildings with long hallways, buildings that are three or four stories high. I say “fortunately” because the winters in northern Indiana are harsh; if you are a walker, and an aging one at that, you benefit from those long corridors. While young I frequently hiked the country through snow-covered landscapes and was invigorated — not as much today. My body no longer wants to battle the cold that constricts and cracks the skin.
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