I recently read this piece online extolling the virtues of long walks and chronicling the variety of smart people who use walking as a means to channel their creativity—it cites the likes of Steve Jobs, Beethoven, Goethe, and Charles Dickens. And, of course, Thoreau took walking to a whole new realm. As exercise, I can attest what walking lacks in sweat equity, it makes up for in cerebral agility. Most of my creative writing germinates during my solo walks, an opportunity to turn things over in my mind.
There is also the therapeutic effect of walking with a friend. I find such an enormous benefit as I go though my own angst-ridden days, in sharing some of that burden with another person, especially someone who isn’t intimately involved with the main characters. A walking conversation has the same benefit that talking to my kids in the car does—you know, those intimate conversations that don’t take place face to face at the dinner table because everyone’s watching you. My walking talks with friends range from raising our young adults and teens to finding fulfilling work to caring for aging parents and spouses to discussing and diagnosing our weird ailments (which all fall into the category of menopause) to worrying about relationships with our kids, our husbands, our siblings, our parents to griping about our jobs and bosses, our thickening waistlines, the increasing difficulty in finding really good fitting bras/shoes/jeans. It’s eclectic and mundane and ever so helpful in maintaining a balance. There is a powerful comfort in knowing that I’m not alone in this journey, that I have friends who are travelling the same path.
These discussions provide moments of communion. They are revealing and expressive, honest and forthright—a sharing of experience and empathy. I’m lucky to have friends far and near with whom the camaraderie of a shared walk is integral to our relationship. I enjoy walking with these women for the perspective on life they can bring to our talks. Our walks provide an exceptional time for undistracted conversation. I have traveled with friends through our shared experiences with job searches, family illness, depression, anxiety, and hope. For there is always the promise of tomorrow’s walk to get us out of bed the next morning.
And yet it is my solo walks that offer me equilibrium, that give me the time and space to contemplate. No fancy equipment required—all I need is a pair of sneakers and stretch of road and I’m on my way. My friend Bonnie once told me that women at a certain age experience a compelling desire to be grounded and that walking is the ideal exercise for that, feet striking the pavement, one foot in front of the other—a no-nonsense undertaking. For me, it is both ballast and sail. A time for problem-solving and fancy-flight alike…an unfettered stream of consciousness birthing poetry and stories and shopping lists. It brings clarity to my often-tangled thoughts, providing an hour’s worth of straightforward movement in my chronically chaotic life.
“An early morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.” — Henry David Thoreau
