Walking

In his essay, “Walking,” Henry David Thoreau writes:

I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day…sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements…. I am reminded that the mechanics and shopkeepers stay in their shops not only all the forenoon, but all the afternoon, too…. I think that they deserve some credit for not having all committed suicide long ago.

Of course, most of us are like those mechanics and shopkeepers. We don’t have the luxury of spending our days walking away our cares in woodland rambles. But Thoreau’s point should not be lost for our lack of time. There is much to be gained from walking—physically, intellectually, and emotionally.

Thoreau walked away from civilization, making much of avoiding towns and settlements. I have spent many pleasant hours walking in woods in all seasons. During twenty years in Wisconsin, the Kettle Moraine State Forest was a frequent destination, particularly in winter when a light snow had salted among the leafless trees and evergreens.

But I would equally advocate walking in more civilized environs. I am a town walker, a city saunterer.

Unlike driving or even bicycling, walking allows the solo pedestrian opportunities to observe his or her fellow inhabitants, both the two-legged and the four-legged varieties. Not long ago, for instance, I rounded a corner in the early-morning semi-darkness only to find that a deer and I were mutually surprised by one another’s presence.

Anyone who enjoys architecture—domestic or commercial—gardens, trees, clouds, indeed whatever the world has to offer can enjoy a walk. And even daily walks in the same general area produce a variety of sights, sounds, and smells. Plus, each day the walker carries different thoughts. Walking is an effective way to stimulate the subconscious to tackle old problems and come up with new ideas.

Having a destination, even if it’s only a coffee shop or the local library, helps motivate my walks. But, in the end, they are as Thoreau describes them: “Our expeditions are but tours, and come round again at evening to the old hearth-side from which we set out.”