In 2014, I was sick and confused, unable to dance, unable to run, unable to cycle without feeling unwell for days afterwards… so I walked. Slowly, and not far. But I walked. It was all I could do.
Every time I walked a little more. It got easier.
Walking – just putting one foot in front of the other – saved me. I used to see walking as a necessary evil or something to avoid. Suddenly, it was the only thing I could do.
So it became all I did.
Grab water, a hat, sunscreen, and comfortable shoes. Check the weather.
Walk further. Climb higher hills.
Don’t go too fast. It’ll make you sick. Just keep walking. Be gentle about it.
Can’t make a decision? I walk.
Can’t relax? Walk.
Yesterday I felt buried in a fog. Lethargic, slow, unsure. I felt fragile. I had a minor medical procedure last week that affected me more than I thought it would. It’s my last week of unemployment before starting a new contract. I had errands to run, I had questions without answers, I had a dark cloud over my head that wouldn’t fuck off. I felt off. Not myself. Strange, trapped, awkward.
So I walked.
As always, it helped.