I was once one of those silly, “why go on a walk when you can go on a run” people. One of those, “shut up about your hot-girl walks” people. Listen, I’m sorry. I’ve been converted. And now, I’m going to convert you into a walker too.
It was not the beauty of nature that turned me on to walking, or the alleged health benefits everyone keeps raving about. It was a combination of feeling like I hadn’t done any cardio in the gym for a little while, combined with disdain for the Stairmaster, and the disappointment of doing poorly on a quiz I felt like I should have scored better on. I wanted mindless cardio, so I hopped on a treadmill (my favorites now are the curved treadmills; you don’t have to press any buttons to adjust your pace).
Now, the crucial part of the walk is getting out of your own head. Similar to running, it can feel like a drag when all you’re doing is mulling around in your own thoughts and staring at the minutes passing on the clock. This is why I implore you to get some cheap headphones (or nice ones, if that’s an investment you’re interested in making). Music you love makes this process incredibly easy. It tends to happen without having to even think about it.
So when did I start to love walking? A couple months ago, I thought I did poorly on an exam. My day couldn’t have been any worse, but then I missed the bus. But, it was warm when I walked home. The sunset was beautiful. An involuntary gratitude washed over me. I just wanted to rot in bed, not feel better — and yet, I couldn't help but feel happy to be at UVA, in Charlottesville, walking home. Maybe it was my frontal lobe finally developing, but suddenly, my worries felt very small. I’ve been walking home ever since.
My walks are usually to the beat of whatever songs I’m obsessed with — anything Chappell Roan right now. I never walk without a destination, though I think that may be the next step in my walking journey. I notice myself moving quicker if I am upset or stressed, and slower if I go into it more relaxed. I’ve also seen treadmill walkers watching movies or reading books while they walk, which seems like it could be a fun strategy too.
And sometimes, I take silent walks, save for the rhythmic tapping of my feet against the treadmill or pavement. To me, this is an acquired taste. There was no way when I first started walking that I could have tuned everything out without music. But now, the birds chirping, the wind rustling the leaves, and the sounds of people talking and laughing in the distance work to help me clear my mind too.
I think that walking is a mindset. Maybe not the actual physical activity of walking itself, but the concentration on a movement for the purpose of silencing the brain. Walking is an exercise, meaning you get the added boost of endorphins, but so is most forms of yoga, or doing a bunch of arm curls, or whatever floats your boat. However, endorphins are not required for this kind of concentration, in my opinion; I’ve experienced the same phenomenon trying to knit, or cleaning a room in my house. The walk is simply a state of mind to tap into.
I find this sort of concentration in making coffee at work, even if the building is bustling and loud — I go one step at a time and repeat, similar to putting one foot in front of the other. This concentration happens when you least expect it sometimes, just like how the benefits of waking seemingly creep out of nowhere. I believe it occurs when you separate from the part of you that worries, even when you don’t mean to. The anxieties only return once I stop. No matter whether you’re too caught up in a task to remember everything else you must do that day, or purposely allocating time to do something that silences the brain, you can seek the benefits of walking in any outlet.
So once again, I implore you to walk if you are able. Your sanity will thank you now, and your joints will probably thank you later.
