MATTHEW BURNETTE

Staff Writer

Recently I’ve found myself fallen into the habit of taking a 30 minute walk every day before coming into the office just to get myself moving and the blood flowing.

The weather has become nicer, and a walk on a nice crisp morning is the perfect way to start the day.

Manchester’s greenway, or the Little Duck River Greenway as it is officially known, has been the preferred destination for these daily walks.

I park in the parking lot at Fred Deadman Park over by the playground and skate park. From there, I get on the greenway and take a right past the ball fields and under the railroad bridge.

In order to make sure I get my 30 minutes, I’ll set a timer on my phone for 15 minutes and then walk as far as that will get me until the timer goes off. Then I’ll turn around and walk back to my car, my thinking being that it probably takes more time to walk back since I’ve expelled more energy.

It’s a really nice walk, especially at that time of the morning.

Squirrels are hopping around under the many trees that line the greenway while birds are chirping from their branches. Fellow walkers and runners always seem to have a kind greeting as they pass by, which I always make sure to reciprocate.

Bonus if they happen to have a dog with them and I get to also greet their furry friend.

You hear horror stories about other town’s greenways being populated by ne’er-do-wells enjoying illegal activities that you only hear about on an episode of Law & Order, but my experience has been nothing but pleasant in that regard.

The Little Duck River Greenway is an almost perfect asset to the City of Manchester with only one glaring issue: you run out of green.

No, this isn’t a tirade about public funding. I’m not talking about the type of green that one carries around in their pocket.

I’m talking about the green that’s supposed to be promised in a name like “greenway.”

My first walk down the greenway I went in the opposite direction than has become my regular. It too was a nice, peaceful walk with the trees and squirrels and birds and all that, but eventually I found myself in a familiar place.

After the path takes you past Rotary Park Amphitheatre, you go up a wooden walkway that takes you to the side of Highway 41.

“Huh?” I thought to myself. “Must be the end of the greenway.”

That would have been fine. Everything needs a beginning and an ending.

I kept walking because I hadn’t yet reached my 15 minutes and ended up by the Shell gas station on Highway 41.

On the way, I traversed a few parking lots and crossed a couple of roads before turning around at the 15-minute mark, traversing the same few parking lots and crossing the same couple of roads before returning to the more natural and appealing part of the greenway.

Granted, there is a sidewalk, so it’s not like I was walking on the side of the highway.

But when you take off on a walk on a greenway, there’s a certain expectation of a more natural setting than vehicles zipping by you at 50 miles an hour.

From what I can gather, the path would eventually lead to Old Stone Fort, a destination that would be pleasing to any greenway enthusiast, and there was a sign notating the sidewalk as part of the greenway.

When I take a walk on a greenway, though, I do so with hopes of escaping into nature. To take a breath and enjoy the dulcet tones of the outdoors.

Going in the opposite direction, the path does also lead onto a road, but a far less busy one and only for a short stretch across a bridge.

I can appreciate the efforts that were put forth to ensure that the city has a nice area outdoors where folks can walk and enjoy themselves, and it certainly seems like there is a lot of work that is done to keep it safe and clean.

I just wish it fully honored the promise of nature that “greenway” suggests and didn’t send you right back to the asphalt and chaos I’m trying to escape from.