Outdoors/Adventure

The utility of a simple walk — both a relaxing activity and an effective form of exercise

Years ago, whenever I’d get on the phone with my stepmom and share about whatever recent outdoor exploit I’d stumbled into, she’d inevitably respond, exasperated, with some version of: “Honey, that’s meshuggenah.” (Yiddish for “crazy.”)

“Try resting,” she would sigh. “Sit down. Read a book.”

She was right. She usually, irritatingly, was. She was right so often that even now that she’s gone, I still go to her in my head for advice. My sister and I ask ourselves, what would Janet do? We invoke her often when figuring out our own lives and in supporting each other. We also call her in to chastise my Dad, as necessary: “Janet would kill him for wearing those pants,” etc.

But, she was also wrong.

I thought of Janet recently while out on a long solo walk.

I’ve been walking a lot these days. It started when I realized, deep pandemic, that I was doing an abnormal amount of sitting while working from home. I wasn’t going into the grocery store during those isolated, pre-vaccine times; I was spared even those small, daily movements of normal life. I found that somehow the waistband of my sweatpants had shrunk, and was musing aloud about this one day to my best friend who gently, in that way that only true best friends can, informed me that my sweatpants had not, in fact, become smaller.

“Ohhhhh,” I said, as it dawned on me.

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I started counting my daily steps, something that I’ve always rebelled against doing for principles that don’t entirely make sense to me as someone otherwise fully steeped in the modern world. I think I am simply very habitual and change-averse, which might surprise anyone who pays attention to my constantly rollicking life, but would probably not surprise my husband or colleagues who see how carefully I mete out my energy and days. A new habit that requires me to pay attention to more information than I absolutely must, or, God forbid, upset my delicate existing balance of activities? No, thank you.

But, in the name of getting my sweatpants back to their usual fit, I grudgingly began consulting the pedometer on my phone. I was appalled at what was there. Even as someone who routinely runs, bikes, and hikes, there were some days I could easily get fewer than 500 steps. For those who don’t count, that’s a really tiny amount — 10,000 steps is typically the recommended daily goal.

I started to walk. I don’t have a dog and didn’t really have anywhere to be, so I was walking mostly for walking’s sake. Sometimes I had a pal to go with, other times it was just me and maybe a podcast. To be perfectly honest, I found the entire activity dull and incredibly time-consuming.

I kept doing it anyway, and gradually my daily step count routinely exceeded 10,000, and my sweatpants returned to their normal size.

Some walks were better than others. I enjoyed making phone calls while walking, and sometimes was able to swing work meetings that way, which helped whittle away the steps practically on their own. Other walks were grueling exercises in counting down the steps and minutes. Yet other times, it was so disgusting outside — read: all of February — that I pulled up “Selling Sunset” on Netflix in my living room and marched in place.

Yes. While it spat snow and rain out my window, I gawked at the Oppenheim Group in all its Botox and real estate glory, composing lists ranking my least- to most-favored cast members, all while doing steps in place in my treadmill-less living room deep in the Butte neighborhood of Palmer. I don’t know what Netflix does to predict its viewership, but I am guessing the target audience isn’t exactly me.

I averaged 3,000 steps per 30-minute episode. My favorite cast member was Ananza.

Now, we’re past the equinox and the sun has finally made its presence known for consecutive days. The roads in my neighborhood are nearly dry. I finished the last season of “Selling Sunset” and am eagerly awaiting Season 4. The mountains bear that bright March radiance, glowing in creamy white palettes that chute down their steep sides. The sky is a brilliant bright blue.

I’ve been working really hard in multiple arenas of my life from personal to professional, and find that the best way for me to decompress after a long day is to — you guessed it — walk.

Not a run. That’s too much effort. Not a hike; I typically do those with friends, and after pouring myself into big projects at work that typically require intense socialization, I just want to go on a long, solo, simple walk where I get to think about anything that I want, or not. I can just look at the mountains and see them for what they are, and meditate on the feeling of cool air on my cheeks. I can listen to a podcast if I want to, and park my brain in a completely different corner of where it’s been focused for hours and days.

And the walking movement? It’s so simple. It’s relaxing.

I find myself thinking of Janet, because unknowingly she was trying to teach me about a particular kind of rest. I think I bought into rest needing to be sleep, or vegging out, or reading a book. Sometimes that is rest for me. But, activity — monotonous, light, easy, outdoor activity — gives me a much deeper sense of shift and rest, moving my body from one domain into something else while simultaneously providing a literal transitional period while I am simply walking. I’m coming from nowhere, going to nowhere, but creating that feeling of shift while doing so.

That’s a form of rest in and of itself, I now realize. And I also realize that I’ve come to love it.

Alli Harvey

Alli Harvey lives in Palmer and plays in Southcentral Alaska.

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