Walking

“I decided to start on the first working day of the year because I knew it couldn’t possibly get more grim than that–it was dark and cold and all the commuters I passed seemed weighed down by the usual post-festive gloom, but I was amazed at how weirdly good I felt. My new route took me past Shakespeare’s Globe, the Tate Modern and the National Theatre, across Waterloo Bridge–a whistle-stop tour of London, and I felt like I was seeing and appreciating everything for the first time. As I crossed Waterloo Bridge, I was suddenly blinded by sunshine. I looked around–the Shard, Canary Wharf, the skyscrapers of the City and St Paul’s to my right, and Big Ben, Westminster and the London Eye to my left. I had the city all to myself.”

“I’d been walking since 6:23. The beach was gorgeous. Of course I had planned appropriately and worn a bikini under my clothes, so into the water I went. I took my time. I soaked it in. Afterwards, I sat on my towel and ate some food. The beauty around me was breathtaking. The sun, the waves, the white sand, all of it. I found myself breathing it in and feeling so lucky to be there. And in the same moment, I also was very conscious of a twinge of guilt. I felt guilty for being in such a pretty place on a day that was supposed to be challenging. [...] And here I was, about 4 hours in, not in pain, not struggling with my mind, not feeling tempted to look at my phone, just reveling in the experience, and feeling guilty for being fully in the moment, like I should be anticipating struggles to pop up at any moment, NOT enjoying myself.”

“The first day, I walked eight hours, most of it in the cold rain. Was I comfortable? Not really. But something doesn’t have to be discomfort-free to make you feel good. I was outside, engaged in my community, using my arms and legs to get me somewhere. Did I feel great? Absolutely.”