How my morning walk became a radical act of self-care
Libby DeLana shares an excerpt from her new book, Do Walk
“Walking makes the world much bigger and thus more interesting. You have the time to observe the details.” Edward Abbey
Saturday, 13 February
What a glorious morning. Cold, bright, hopeful. I started this practice because I needed to get back to a bigger sense of purpose and clarity, one that began with a fundamental intimacy with the earth. On this morning, I have seen the sun come up, a coyote, several blue jays, an eagle, and the start to my 54th year. I have come to realise that making a commitment and following through with it is what love looks like. This hasn’t been an easy path these last few years, but I haven’t missed a day. Some walks have felt impossible. Yet every walk has been a gift. An opportunity to add energy, focus and space to the day. Space to hold overwhelming thoughts, to hear essential intuition, to toss around silly ideas, to look at gut reactions, to play with messy concepts, to feel grateful and to celebrate another pass around the sun. Happy birthday to me.
I had no idea the impact a simple, gentle walk would have on my life. The impact comes not only from the actual physical walking but also from the discipline, the practice, the commitment. This MorningWalk — I refer to my daily practice of walking as ‘MorningWalk’ — has ignited my sense of curiosity, satiated my everlasting wanderlust and been the most powerful tool for inspiration in my life.
I walk roughly the same loop most days. Out the front door, 5am, 8.2 miles, 17,740 steps. I walk past the same barn. On the same path. Along the same river. With the same headwind around that last turn. This conscious repetition is a form of meditation, designed for intentional familiarity. It’s almost as if I could do this route blindfolded, I have travelled it so often. Some days, on the backstretch, I close my eyes while walking for 10, 20, 30, 40 steps.
This creates a powerful silence. In this silence, I can hear what my body — my gut, my heart — is telling me in this moment. The mindlessness of the route itself brings mindfulness to the moment.
It seems so obvious now but my initial intention was simple: to be outside and to be mindful. Every day. To create space. To find time for creativity. To dedicate an hour of my day to something nourishing and satisfying. As my days had become more about tasks to complete, it became increasingly obvious that I needed to get outdoors, move and play a little.
This is not a story about mileage or pace. In fact, it is the opposite. This is a story about listening, seeing, hearing, feeling and understanding. It is also a story of radical self care. At the start, I wouldn’t have been able to identify it that way, but as time has passed the discipline of doing something physically and emotionally nourishing every day has been the most profound outcome of this daily practice.
Redefining success
When I think about life before the covid pandemic of 2020–2021, it felt as if the world defined success as someone who was busy. The cult of busy was overwhelming. MorningWalk became an act of rebellion that challenged the cultural norm. Success became more about going out even when it was −28°C (−18°F), when it was pouring with rain, when I ‘didn’t have time’ or when I just plain old didn’t want to go. Success was going because I’d promised myself I would, not because anyone else noticed or cared. It was a wildly selfish pursuit. I was able to redefine success in terms that were profoundly simple — to have walked every day — and to recognise that there wasn’t one walk where I didn’t feel better. And what do I mean by ‘feel better’? Well, everything. As it turns out, persistence, focus and determination can stretch limits and push boundaries. That is a powerful feeling of freedom and love. Commitment is intoxicating. There is nothing more generous than sticking to a promise you have made to yourself.
I dare say that is why pilgrims, protestors, monks, hikers, wanderers, activists, explorers, adventurers and poets often walk. There is a freedom when we walk. We strip away all the unnecessary noise and details in our mind and in the world and step into a place of profound sense of agency and focused attention. This is my experience with the ritual of a MorningWalk. Silence and celebration. Freedom and love. Quiet, intimate, daily acknowledgements of strength, commitment and resilience. This is why I feel better after a walk. It is a personal triumph.
There are many other benefits of a good walk. Walking is said to provide some powerful health benefits, such as:
· Improves circulation
· Strengthens bones
· Improves sleep
· Boosts energy for the day
· Maintains weight / burns calories
· Improves mood
· Strengthens your heart
· Boosts immune function
· Can help lower blood sugar
· Supports joints
· Lowers Alzheimer risks
“Above all, do not lose your desire to walk: Every day I walk myself into a state of wellbeing and walk away from every illness; I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it.”
Søren Kierkegaard
One morning, late in the autumn of 2011, I struggled to get out of bed. I hadn’t slept well. I wanted to stay put. I hadn’t been doing my MorningWalk for long, but had come to know that walking was my best bet. There is always something that happens on a MorningWalk that improves the upcoming day. I’ve since learned that the days I don’t want to go are in fact the days I most ‘need’ to go.
The morning before, I thought I had seen two coyotes at the end of the street. So, driven by curiosity, not commitment or joy, I meandered downstairs to get my gear on and headed out the door. It was just after 5am and was pitch-black out, with a cold sliver of a moon and a cloud layer that made it feel as if there was no light in the world. I waited until I got to the end of the street before I turned on my headlamp, because there is something about gently, very gently, easing into the silent darkness of a walk. By keeping my headlamp off it felt as if I was quietly entering the morning. The stillness of the dark felt like a hug. It’s interesting, there is a quiet, determined community up at this hour. I saw a familiar runner at the top of the street. We all recognise each other but don’t really know anything about one another. We nod and wave, it feels like a secret handshake when our paths cross.
Later, after passing my familiar morning squad, I saw the quick-moving shadow of something larger than a dog … It was the coyote. The discreet nature of how this animal exists in the world is fascinating. It made me pause. Humans are so loud, so dominant, so obvious. We exist in our ecosystems flamboyantly and overtly. The coyote, however, is intimately integrated into its private world. Quietly powerful, discreet in its movement and impact.
There were lessons to be learned from this morning visitor. My MorningWalk offers up many a teacher. I was glad curiosity got the better of me that morning.
“All walking is discovery. On foot, we take the time to see things whole.”
Hal Borland
This is an edited extract from Do Walk: Navigate earth, mind and body. Step by step. Text copyright © 2021 Libby DeLana . Published by Do Books. Order your copy from: Do Books (includes ebook) | Bookshop.org (UK) | Bookshop.org (US)
Follow Libby DeLana’s morning walks @parkhere #thismorningwalk
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