Admittedly, it was an odd decision to walk to the mall. Malls were not made to fit a walker’s routine. These massive, enclosed shopping centers arose in the 1950s, part of a shift that included the growth of the suburbs and automobile culture. Malls are often blamed for the decay of American city centers, because their superstores and movie theaters drew people away from local downtown venues, encouraging residents to discard a walk to the corner store in favor of a drive to the mall.

This year, my year of walking in the Friendly City, I am thankful for the steps: the secluded pedestrian steps, half concealed by foliage and bridge rails, that offer safe passage to local walkers.

There is a forest near my house, but I’ve never walked there. I can see it from the bike path that branches off from Third Street, where I often stroll, but a fence separates me from the dense trees that beckon across the distance, raising their rusty branches against the ashen sky.