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. 

Walk further. Climb higher hills. 

Rinse, repeat. 

Walk. 

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. 

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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.