241. One step at a time

In which Rebecca discovers how different ways to walk can make a difference way beyond walking.

Dear Reader,

I knew it was going to be interesting even before I’d set out. Although I hadn’t put any of the ideas in the book into practice, I felt I’d already taken a masterclass at the School of Life. Boxes for history, humanity, physiology, fitness and mental wellbeing had all been ticked in my binge-read of 52 Ways to Walk: the surprising science of walking for wellness and joy, and now I was stepping into the laboratory of the great outdoors to test them.

Deciding straight off the bat to save chapter 29, Walk Barefoot, for high summer, I laced my boots up tightly, deciding not to zip on my gaiters now that the early days of spring sunshine had dried up all but the puddliest paths. Chapter 6, Take a Muddy Walk, would have to wait for another time.

Fifty-two steps later the heavens opened and landed me in Chapter 12, Walk in the Rain. Some people I’ve come across behave as if they’re either terrified of the stuff, or even allergic to it, so keen are they to avoid it. But rain’s only water, and I decided to follow the advice in the book to embrace the physicality of the experience and enjoy the heightening of my senses. The drops drummed on my waterproof jacket, and the drizzle across my face gave curious comfort. My glasses got wet, but hey, my hanky was to hand.

At school I’d been the earnest child who was always being told to ‘Smile, Rebecca!’, and when Chapter 3 had urged me to Walk, Smile, Greet, Repeat, I’d been dubious. Nobody walks around just smiling, do they? Surely I’d feel like an idiot. I tried it, then stopped. Tried again, and laughed at myself. I looked around, hoping nobody was there. No, just me. What the heck, I’d do it: walk and smile at the same time. Ooooh, that felt nice. Really nice. Why had I never thought to do this before?

The Greet part of that chapter’s title would, I felt, be a nightmare. I’m not instantly drawn to people, and actually I prefer my own company. Still, as my smile had become my face’s most consistent feature over the previous few minutes, it didn’t feel at all strange to greet cheerily the man with a dog walking towards me.

‘And good morning to you!’ he replied, with a delight I hadn’t anticipated.

Blimey, I thought. This book really is making a difference.

52 Ways to Walk, the surprising science of walking for wellness and joy, one week at a time, by Annabel Streets, is published by Bloomsbury. Each chapter is only two or three pages long, and ends with tips on putting its techniques into practice.

The book has taught me a great deal – and without even trying; it’s a very accessible, easy read – and I laughed a lot. In Chapter 44, Walk Backwards, I read about an eccentric Texan called Plennie Wingo who, in 1931, began a 7,000 mile journey backwards across the USA and beyond; in Week 27, Sing as you stride, lowering one’s inhibitions by the means of a hip flask was suggested.

Because of my fluctuating mobility issues I’m not much of a walker at the moment, yet this book about walking has got me into a really good smiling habit, encouraged me to go outside in the dark to look at the stars, and to make paddling barefoot through the grass in my garden second nature.

As a direct result of my shoeless circuits of the garden last month I picked up my art materials for the first time in ages. Who’d’ve thought that engaging with my garden through naked soles would have even got me drawing again? I was astonished.

Although when I first picked it up I didn’t consider 52 Ways to Walk to be a self-help book, right now I can’t think of another book which has made such an immediate difference to my everyday life.

The beginning of this piece was the result of an exercise set by excellent course tutor Terry Freedman in the last session of his recent eleven-week course The 60-minute writer, at the CityLit.1 The college offers classes both in-person and online, and this course was held weekly on Zoom, with sessions lasting an hour.

The theme for the final class was stems and prompts, and Terry explored various ways for a writer to start a piece of work, be it poetry or prose, fiction or non-fiction. The prompt he set us to work with was this:

I knew it was going to be interesting when…

Now that’s an excellent starting point to reflect on pretty much anything. 😊

Thank you for reading! I haven’t been around for a while, and this piece is something I’ve been wanting to share with you. Thank you Terry Freedman for your encouragement. 😊

With love,

Rebecca x

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