Yes, I know what you’re thinking, you’re not 80 years old, so you’re most definitely not going to go for a fucking walk, besides, you’ve got things to do, people to see, shows to watch, kids to raise, partners to satisfy and litter boxes to clean.

And I get it. But indulge me for a second… You can trust me when I say I was just as judgemental towards walking for the sake of walking as you are. In fact, I harboured active ill will towards any kind of “passive” form of moving. I considered it a painful waste of time, a hollow non-activity reserved for people who have either surrendered to their crippling loneliness, or who simply lack imagination when it comes to outdoor activities. As a youngster, gallivanting around with other teenagers, I would often see pensioners walking around the neighbourhood all alone, and the apparent aimlessness of their whole being filled me with deep disdain. It also made me promise myself that I’m never ever going to become one of these sad, lonely snails. But here I am, feeling refreshed as a mountain flower having just returned from a walk, during which I actually came up with the idea of writing about the invigorating powers of walking, so who cares. Because it doesn’t really matter what kind of stubborn, silly ideas you clutched to your pimply chest a decade ago. What matters is the wisdom of here and now. And the wisdom of here and now is that I feel fucking great.

…

I’ve been suffering with dreadful tension headaches ever since I’ve hit puberty. Chronic migraines run in the family and there’s generally very little I can do once they hit. Like a Swiss watch from hell, a powerhouse of a headache will strike at my temples exactly once every two weeks, and unless I take a painkiller the pain will soon reach unbearable levels.

Somewhere along the way, I managed to figure out that pacing, right after I’ve swallowed a pill, not only makes the medicine work faster, but also diminishes the dosage I have to ingest. From this automatic response a headache ritual grew into life – I take half of a painkiller and before the pill stumbles down my throat, I’m out the door and walking in a random direction. I never take the phone with me as straining my eyes renders the painkillers useless, and also makes the pain much worse. Even though the headaches appear at random times of the day, the ritual remains bulletproof. If I wake up in the middle of the night and my head is throbbing with pain, I will promptly get myself out of bed, dress up, and head out without giving it a second thought. Through this unfailing, soldierly operation I became a semi-voluntary witness to a dazzling kaleidoscope of hidden city scenes… I’ve seen the bakers firing up their ovens when everybody else is asleep. I’ve seen the last partygoers zigzagging towards their homes and the newspaper delivery crews racing each other on their tiny bikes. I’ve experienced the complete silence of the night and the deafening buzz of the afternoon. I’ve witnessed the sun rising and setting over the buildings of this urban sprawl I call home. But most of all, through this bizarre mixture of pain and unexpected beauty, I’ve learned how to get out of my own head.

…

We live in a maddeningly goal oriented society.

Everything we do is conditioned by the expectation of some kind of a “reward” at the end of our endeavors because what’s the point of bothering otherwise? At least this is how we are taught to think ever since we are taught anything at all. It’s no wonder then, that our cherished downtime follows the same bullying pattern – even when you’re chilling you have to get that like, that notification, that match, that retweet…. This debilitating binary logic robs us of some of the most effective ways with which we can escape the self-built prison of our anxieties. Because staying so nervously poised all the time is the surest way to renounce ever having an experience. Which is exactly what a walk, if done right, can be. When I finally incorporated regular strolls into my weekly routine, I not only re-learned how to immerse myself into my immediate surroundings, but I also realised that the nervous chatter in my mind can be subdued. Turns out that when you renounce your electronic gadgets, even if just for a little while, and when you stop hurrying (because you don’t really need to be anywhere), there is simply no way for the cranky inner demon to keep up. In my case it’s always the same – after about 5 minutes of frantic monologuing that begins after I start walking, my mind stops to catch its breath, just to suddenly figure out that it ran out of content. As I reach the end of my street I feel calmer already. But most of all I feel like I’m participating in something that’s larger than my panic. So just trust me on this one, put your shoes on… And enjoy the ride.  

Originally published at https://thatanxiousdude.com on July 29, 2020.