The Rhythmic Cure of Walking
Back in 2017, Bioscience Journal published that “Experiences of nature provide many mental-health benefits, particularly for people living in urban areas.” I mean…yeah. Anyone who’s ever touched grass or dirt can hopefully tell you that.
But I think something deeper is going on.
Out on a long trail, it’s not just the miles or the scenery, though those are great. It’s the way walking itself starts to pull things loose in your soul. With every step, the noise of regular life gets quieter. You stop obsessing. You stop performing. You stop being “productive” And it’s in these moments your spirit finally has room to breathe.
On the Appalachian Trail (14’), I used to ask hikers why they were out there. Without hesitation, people, total strangers at the time, would tell me, unprompted, that they were on a spiritual journey. They didn’t say “vacation” or “fitness” that was a byproduct. They said spiritual.
I don’t think that happens without rhythm. Without the slow 3mph unraveling. Without the desert heat, the high elevation passes and waist high river crossings, the long empty miles of walking give your spirit permission to speak. I don’t like walking through 100 degree Mojave sand, but I’ve learned to love what it does to me.
The rhythm brings clarity. Curiosity. Creativity. Closeness. I start noticing tiny things like flowers opening in the sun, elk grazing in total silence. lighting carving the mountains in half. I become fully human again.
And that’s where the sickness kicks in. I want just a little more. One more ridge. One more mile. One more day of stillness before this other life tries to swallow me again.
So when I hear headlines screaming “Science says going outside improves your life,” I smile and quietly keep walking.