The value of ordinary walks
I try to walk at least 3 miles every day. Sometimes it’s a walk to the post office and errands in town, but most days it’s a couple of laps of the park, alone or with a friend. I vary it a little, lengthening it by going out to paths nearby, but it is pretty much the same every day. Depending on my mood, I might bring my camera along, and stop and observe the changing details of those familiar views, or simply walk at speed, eyes to the ground and podcast in my ears.
I started walking more after my husband died. In his years of illness I’d cycle to work, to save time and be able to get home faster in an emergency. I still enjoyed walking when I could, but very rarely went for a walk with no place to get to. In the early weeks after his death going out and walking was a way of dealing with grief when it could no longer be contained indoors. The tears would often start rolling, hidden behind my sunglasses, as soon as I stepped out. Something about walking helped me, literally, move through grief. Observing nature changing with the seasons helped too - watching that summer fade away - everything else moving too.
When I went back to work, I chose to walk rather than cycle. I had more time than I could possibly need now, and found that my walk to and from work became my favourite part of the day. That’s when I started sharing the same view of the river, most mornings, on my Instagram stories, and little videos of my feet as I walked. I was looking for my place in this world, and this daily walk was part of it, somehow.
Then we were sent home, as the country and much of the world went into lockdown. At first I hardly left the house at all. I had a garden, so it seemed unnecessary. Then I allowed myself one walk a week, eventually moving to daily. I started to feel that need again, but for different reasons. It was the only time I spent outside my home, and, something that became surprisingly crucial to me, it was a way to exercise. I was already fairly active, but only in the sense of not avoiding physical effort: I’d walk or cycle everywhere, carry shopping home, always choose the stairs over a lift. But lockdown made me feel the need to move. I started practising ballet every day, and then, walking too.
And still, I walk. I am not a hiker. I don’t seek out new vistas or listen out for birds. Mostly, I walk, fast, the same route every day, earphones firmly in, lost in my own world - but breathing, and moving, letting any anxiety drift away, step by step, thinking about everything and nothing, in a completely ordinary, noisy, unremarkable walking ritual.
