the power of a walk

I have come to a conclusion: All my life, I have underestimated the quiet, unassuming power of a simple walk.

In high school, the siren call of the long and fast run had me panting around local high school tracks at all hours of the morning. In college, it became painful jaunts on a treadmill, staring at beige walls and praying for the last minute of this aerobic torture.

But when I moved to California, it was like I got a second chance at life.

I remember waking up, being amazed at the sunlight falling through the blinds—blinds I was paying for—and casting light on the floor—a floor I was paying for. I’d make myself a cup of tea and walk around the complex. Somehow, it only seemed to grow bigger and bigger every day; it took me a couple years before I felt I had grasped the layout fully.

It was those walks that grew something in me; the joy of slowness. I’m fast-paced: I type fast, write fast, live fast. But weaving these slower rituals into my life, like a sunny walk around my apartment complex, helps me remember to enjoy the small things.

Last year, walks saved me. I was overwhelmed by what I would call my coming-of-age story: realizing that not everyone has my best interest at heart. That wolves often wear the masks of timid, broken sheep who need a listening ear . . . and a life source to drain.

These less-than-idyllic realizations sent my world crashing down. Often, at work, I’d find myself beginning to panic. I found the only thing that could calm me down was going outside and escaping for 20 precious minutes. Somehow, with each step it was like one fear was being left behind me. The birds were still chirping, the sun was still shining, and there was a mother pushing her baby daughter in a stroller.

There was still beautiful things that wouldn’t take.

I added prayer and verse reading to these walks, and wow—they became an absolute power source. This is why I say walks saved me last year. I’m not being dramatic. Those jaunts outside healed me more than therapy ever could. It was just me, the sun, God, the birds, and the burning pavement under my feet.

To this day, I crave my walks. I’ve even added them to my workout routine (lemme tell you—they are so underrated for staying slim!!). So, when life is yelling at you to run like an overbearing fitness coach . . . ask yourself, do you really need to?

Or is it time for a walk?