on February 18th, 2015 No Comments
SMS (“Stanford Medical School”) Unplugged was recently launched as a forum for students to chronicle their experiences in medical school. The student-penned entries appear on Scope once a week; the entire blog series can be found in the SMS Unplugged category.
My California-acclimated body was a little shocked by the 15-degree weather I encountered while visiting my Kentucky hometown over winter break, but I was still determined to bundle up most days and to get outside for long walks with my mom and daughter. One day as we were struggling to catch an opening in traffic to cross the blindly curving road leading out of our subdivision, it occurred to me that the cold was the least of our barriers to getting a little exercise.
“I don’t think I could design a more dangerous place to walk if I tried,” I observed in frustration. Another car whizzed by within a couple feet of my daughter’s stroller. “This town was definitely built for cars, not people.”
For most of my childhood, my family lived right in the middle of town, within about a mile of many of the places a young family might visit on a daily basis. Grocery stores, school, church, the public library, restaurants, the park where I played softball, and my grandmother’s house were all close enough that they should have been an easy walk. But that one mile might as well have been twenty, and I can count on one hand the times I walked to those destinations. I tried a few times, but to get there on foot I’d have to navigate roads lined by steep hills or ditches with no sidewalks or crosswalks. There is one underpass that would require a pedestrian to climb onto a narrow strip of gravel and inch along the wall, close enough to the fast-moving traffic to be unbalanced by gusts from each passing car.
Because of these real physical barriers, the local cultural wisdom took it as self-evident that cars were the only reasonable way to get around. Walking and biking were recreational activities to be done in endless circles around the cul-de-sac, not viable modes of transportation. The risk of walking wasn’t just a theoretical one: Our roads were decorated with a couple of makeshift roadside altars made by the families of teenagers who had died while trying to cross the street. More recently, I was disappointed to read an article confirming my suspicions that cycling in the Southeastern U.S. is drastically more dangerous than in other regions.