We live about a mile-and-a-half from my son Max's school. To get there, we walk six or seven blocks to a bike trail and take that trail to within a couple blocks of the school entrance. The trail winds along Long Branch Creek and there's a playground about halfway along our portion of the trail.

I carry Sam on my shoulders all the way to the school, as we have to make decent time. Most days, we can do the hike in about 25 minutes. Sam and I take much longer to get home, since I make him walk all the way back. And he often likes to stop off at the playground as well.

I never thought much about walking to school as a kid. The school in Salina, Kan., where I went to Kindergarten was three blocks from my house. I would walk to the corner, meet two friends and we would walk the last two (much shorter) blocks together to school. Not far.

My school in Lawrence, Kan., was even closer: across the street. In fact, the school entrance lined up almost perfectly with our driveway. The principal made sure that I knew I had to go to the corner to get to school. This confused me. Why wouldn't I go to the corner? Didn't he know jaywalking was illegal?

We moved to Kansas City when I was in the fifth grade, and my school was six blocks from our house. Still an easy walk.

Max could ride the bus to school. In fact, he does ride it home from school, because Sam still naps and I'd rather let Sam have an extra half-hour of sleep. But we do walk in the mornings. And I learned something I should have already known: Unless you're a normal child or an athlete in training, when you add three miles of walking (half of that with 30 lbs. on your shoulders) to your daily routine, you will get in better shape. Fast.

I say normal child because, of course, there are kids who could benefit from regular walking. Max hardly notices the walk, though, since he's in motion most of the time anyway. Sam complains a bit about the walk home, but mostly because he likes the luxury of his Pasha's seat on my shoulders. He's hardly indolent. His idea of a good time is to spend every waking hour throwing, kicking, hitting or otherwise manipulating balls. And, of course, it is imperative to run somewhat incoherently after throwing or kicking or whatever.

October is International Walk to School Month. Unlike Ihop, however, this event really is international. It started in England in 1994, and last year people in 40 countries participated. That's cool. But do you have create an event just to get people to walk their kids to school?

Max goes to Rolling Terrace Elementary. He's in the Spanish immersion program. A large portion of the kids in the "regular" school are in ESL classes--English immersion, if you will. I'd guess that somewhere between a third and two-thirds of the students at Rolling Terrace walk to school. There are a few buses and a few kids file off them every morning. Some parents do drop their kids off, but there's never a line of cars. The number of kids streaming in on the sidewalks appears to dwarf those arriving any other way. This is not a school where parents need to be trained to walk their kids.

We are zoned for Takoma Park Elementary, which is actually slightly further away from our house. Very few kids walk to TPES--that school is organized and it publishes those statistics. Most kids arrive on the bus or are driven to school. The line for the cars is long and somewhat maddening--I've heard plenty of horror stories from harried parents. Most of the TPES kids could walk to school. But they don't.

The obvious reason for this is that many (if not most) TPES families have two working parents. But that's not necessarily cause and effect. I know a couple two-earner families whose kids go to Rolling Terrace, and they manage to walk their kids to school every day. You do have to manage your schedule and have a job with some flexibility, but that's not impossible to wrangle.

Last week, Max and then Sam were sick. I didn't walk Max to school until Friday (he got to ride the bus instead). I hadn't thought much about it, but by Thursday I was champing at the bit to get out for my daily constitutional. It's a nice way to get the day going. And, of course, a mile-and-a-half hike is just the ticket to wear Sam out enough so that's ready for a nap sometime between 12:30 and 1:00.

Most importantly, taking the time to walk to school has the effect of making the entire day seem less cluttered. Even on mornings when Sam's preschool starts at 9:30--mornings I need to carry him back home as well as to Max's school--the time spent along the creek, listening to Max and Sam chatter and meeting up with any number of Max's classmates is restorative. Exercise clears the mind, but walking also seems to expand time. I haven't felt nearly as rushed in the last month, even though my schedule has become much more strict. It's interesting that I can feel more relaxed even as my life has added new responsibilities.

Rolling Terrace is celebrating International Walk to School Day on October 3. People will be meeting at that playground along the trail and walking to school en masse. I figure we'll tag along. It seems like the neighborly thing to do.

And I hope some folks who don't normally walk their kids to school discover the same thing I have: That the jaunt to school is more time to enjoy your kids in a relaxed setting. Driving in a car in morning traffic is stressful, and waiting at a bus stop is, well, waiting. Walking is constant motion, and even when somewhat hurried, the act of walking burns off scads of accumulated stress. It's a good way to ease the mind. And we could all use more of that.

Jon Worley feels he must disclose that Long Branch Creek has been dry in September due to drought. Nonetheless, walking along a dry creekbed is better than pounding the pavement along a seven-lane suburban boulevard.