Today, while cutting straight down the middle of Chimborazo Park, it occurred to me that I have gone on the same exact walk at least 700 times, meaning that I have seen the James River from the same vantage point 1,400 times over the last two years. I’d never thought in these terms before. After the first few months of taking The Walk every day, I began to consider it essential. It became like brushing my teeth: I sometimes felt grumpy about doing it, but it was never really up for debate.
Most people understand this practice as exercise, asking me if I try to improve my time, or telling me that I may need to increase the strenuousness as I get older, lest I put on weight (i.e. the end of the world). But it has never been about exercise, or even health, for me. In fact, there have been days when I walk very slowly, usually due to extreme sadness. No, The Walk is about cultivating ease in my body and mind, which I generally understand to be the opposite of disease.
Because I leave my phone at home (almost always), I am unreachable for 50 minutes every day. I step outside of time, outside of my life. I am even able to step outside my role(s) as “Ellen” sometimes. Before adopting this habit, I was in a nearly constant state of craving for this kind of space, and on the rare occasion that I skip The Walk, I feel restless.
Every day, my route is the same, but the monotony pulls the curtain on detail. I’ve seen the leaves change–really seen them–three times now. I’ve walked in heavy rain. I’ve made the first footprints in fresh snow. I once saw a couple of unattended peahens crossing the street. Some days, all of Church Hill smells like hops from Stone Brewing. Once, I discovered fruit growing on a tree I must have passed hundreds of times already. I have traipsed through weddings, bike races, and school picnics. I regularly exchange greetings with neighbors who seem to always be out on their front porch, people walking their dogs in the park, and several fine cat friends. I feel like I live here.
Our productivity-obsessed culture stands aghast at such a colossal waste of time. “If you aren’t burning calories, are you at least listening to an audiobook or something?” That I would actually be doing nothing seems unfathomable. I still don’t fully understand why I walk, or what it means to me, but I am spurred on by an observation I made during the first few weeks, which has now been confirmed 700 times over: the people with the nicest porch furniture are never sitting on it.