The joys of forward ambulation
This post arises from the joys of being walked by a demanding elderly terrier (who sits comfortably in my arms as I stride along)
Walking is good for the mind. It connects you, literally, with the ground. Each footstep kicks up a little cloud of dust (yes, this is written in yet another heat wave that has left the grass wilting and the soil cracking). Some people worry about nettle stings and bug bites - but these are par for the course. You have to take a bit of discomfort to get the joy out of life (although bites are really annoying).
In fact, my thoughts on walking have expanded beyond the perils of itchy bites. I’m reading Rory Stewart’s The Places in Between, a book depicting his walk across Afghanistan. It’s pretty anthropological in many ways - he depicts the lives of countless individuals who either help him or try to shoot at him, or both, in no particular order. He writes how walking is a bit like dancing - which the dervishes in Afghanistan prized as key to their relationship with higher powers, but that successive strict regimes and ideologies have banned.
Walking from one place to another connects you in time, not only to the people that you encounter along the way but also to the spin of the earth on its axis and the rising of the sun and moon. I’ve come to understand recently that my life is dictated rather more than it should be by the hours of sunlight that I am able to experience. Living in the UK, this is a tricky existence, since our daylight hours dwindle precariously in the winter and extend into glorious, long evenings in the midst of summer.
I came to realise, as my anxiety ramped up during the colder months, that the arrival of December 21st, midwinters day, was a turning point. It symbolised a step towards the light, towards longer and happier days. Waking up in the dark and waiting for the sun to rise is a an enjoyable spectacle in the winter, but when night draws in before 4pm and the curtains close on your available daytime it feels like life comes to an end. Perhaps I should spend more time with nocturnal animals to get a feel for what activities are available in the depth of the twilight hours, but for me, winter is tough to get through.
Having to cram all outside activities into a short period of time is possible with a student and unemployed schedule, but in the future when my life is dictated more by the working hours of those around me, it won’t be possible to go walking in the middle of the day. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I reach it, and for now be appreciative of the sunlight that pours down upon us for hours on end.
The fact that we have recently seen the passing of June 21st is concerning, however. Whilst there has not yet been a discernible shortening of daylight hours, the knowledge of an escalating sheet of darkness descending upon us in the dwindling light of summer doesn’t sit easily in my soul. Perhaps I should change my perspective, as one can get frustrated by the birds and sunrise glaring through the curtains at 4:30 am during the summer.
My sleep schedule has shifted to rise with the twittering birds outside, and to walk my dog before the blistering heat of the day. This all makes sense, given the science of circadian rhythms, but the impending doom of a winter of darkness and a lack of control over the passage of time doesn’t help to settle my nerves. Alas, we return to the joys of forward ambulation.
By this I refer, of course, to walking - but also running. This is an activity I have got back into over the last few months in an attempt to restore strength and mobility to my ankle. Having been on crutches so many times over the years, being able to move is something you really can’t take for granted. Indeed, with another surgery on the horizon, and the prospect of losing mobility once more for a period of time, I’ve taken it upon myself to make the most of the abilities I currently have, and of the available daylight.
Forward ambulation and the sensory stimulation and experience of seeing the world move past you has been proven to have a positive impact on your mental and physical health (according to an Andrew Huberman podcast episode I listened to whilst walking). Rory Stewart even talks about reaching a kind of meditative state during his walks, which he takes seriously enough to have traversed the breadth of multiple countries. Such strong anecdotal and scientific evidence, alongside my personal experiences and now dependence on walking, means that I am a firm believer in the joys and benefits of movement.
Forward ambulation can even include riding a bike - any movement which generates optic flow, the visual sensation of moving through an environment. According to Huberman’s podcast, my able assistant in writing this paragraph, forward ambulation helps reduce anxiety and stress by lowering activity in the amygdala, the brain region associated with fear and anxiety, promoting a sense of calm. It can also enhance mood and cognitive function, releasing neurochemicals like dopamine and serotonin and increasing blood flow to the brain. Naturally, it promotes physical health - cardiovascular health and muscular strength. It also helps improve alertness, helping to regulate circadian rhythms when combined with early morning exposure to sunlight. What’s not to like!
A benefit which isn’t detailed in an internet search is the company of a dog. Although I’m not currently walking my own dog and am instead taking care of two other canine friends, the joys of facilitating happiness for these creatures are endless, not to mention watching them scamper along in front of you. Dogs often have unique ways of moving - our old lab Barney used to trot in a diagonal line, and Muffin has a barrel-shaped chest that wiggles from side to side as she potters along. Daisy, the terrier who sits in my arms more often than she walks, has a unique gait characterised by wobbly hips and stiff front legs. I’ll let her off hailing a cab! Dogs are, as ever, man’s (or people’s) best friend - and if they’re huge fans of walking, we should be too.
There’s also something to be said about listening to the birds. Generating auditory flow is something that helps you feel grounded and part of a system bigger than your life stuck at home. I’m a big fan of listening to podcasts during walks, but sometimes I prefer to take my Airpods out and absorb the sounds around me. I met a lady in the village the other day who said that when her son visits, he calls it “nature bathing”. Maybe that’s an accurate term for the life I’m living right now - bathing in nature. It does make me a little concerned about compromising my daily habits to fit the rigidity of urban life in the future. For now, I’ll stick to my walks, runs and significant optic stimulation.
