A Walk in the Park

A little blurb about me touching grass, I guess.

I went on a walk the other day.

Sometimes I feel so many emotions so intensely I feel physically paralyzed. I guess I call it bed rot. I’m sure there’s another word for it I’m too scared to dive deeper for.

The other day my head felt too intense, too full. So, I went on a walk. I left my phone on my nightstand, put on my shoes, and without a single item in my pockets, I walked out of the house.

Initially I thought a quick walk around the block would clear my head. Maybe offer some peace I was searching for. I got to the end of my street and remembered I live a mile away from the beach. I’ve lived here 5 months and still haven’t even set foot on the beach.

Why the hell not?

I take a left turn and start walking. Not entirely sure of the route, but I know the general direction of the ocean and just simply trust that I’ll figure it out. Even if I don’t, I can always turn around and find my way back home.

I appreciated the crosswalk I normally drive over every day. It looked different from a pedestrian point of view. Larger. Louder.

I crossed the street, appreciating the breeze the weather was offering. I noticed all of the cars, wondered what time it was. Maybe close to 5.

I walked down the road knowing I had no phone to distract me, no obligations to anyone, no responsibilities that night. Just the freedom to walk wherever and for however long I wanted.

—

I reach the first fork in the road and take a right. I’m pretty positive that’s where the ocean is. If not, I’ll at least learn what lies on this side of my neighborhood. Experience something new.

I see rows and rows of townhomes and apartments. Looming towers of condos and penthouses. I wonder how many of them are locals. How many of them are snowbirds. How many of them like living here, appreciating the views. How much money they make. How many of them are struggling. How many of them are making more money than they can spend.

I approach a bridge. One of those drawbridges that open for boats and yachts passing by that are too tall to slip under. This is the inlet. If I keep going straight I should theoretically hit the beach. I’m thankful the sidewalk continues through to the other side of the bridge.

I walk slowly, trying my best to remind myself that I’m in no rush. To appreciate the sights around me. The smells, the colors, the new experience. I stop for a second to both admire and despise the yachts parked along the inlet. How many of them are barely used?

I reach the top of the bridge and try my best not to look down. The bridge is carpeted with holes, I guess the material they typically use to make these bascule bridges with. You can see directly down into the water below. I’m terrified of heights but nothing is going to stop me from my mission. I silently celebrate when I make it back to the end of the bridge, safely on land again.

I smell salt in the air. I know I’m almost there. A few hundred feet and I’m at a board walk, promising sand on the other end. I smile to myself knowing I made it. When I reach the other end of the wooden pathway, my shoes hit sand and I stop to admire the ocean. The beach! I can’t believe it’s taken me this many months to make it here. I take a mental note to consider bringing a book next time.

I decide to walk along the beach. Maybe I’ll walk for a bit, turn around, and walk back home. Or maybe I’ll find a new mission along the way.

I walk for about 50 feet until I see a dog. I look up and realize this must be a dog beach. Warmth fills my heart and I decide to sit.

I watch as all of the dogs run, catch, play, sleep, bark, and swim. Guilt hits my stomach knowing my dog is at home and has never known this place. I promise myself I’ll take him soon.

I see some dachshunds, some golden retrievers, labs, pomeranians, mutts. None of them on a leash. All just enjoying the freedom. Enjoying the nature.

Two dogs playing tug-of-war together.

One black dog splashing in the water, catching a tennis ball.

The sand in my hands feels cool.

Two kids playfully being chased by another blonde dog.

I sit there another 30 minutes, soaking up the feeling as much as I can. Forcing myself to memorize the peace and joy in this moment. I get up as the ocean reflects gold and the sky is layered with shades of pink.

Instead of turning around, I decide to keep going. Positive I’ll find another boardwalk to lead me back to the inlet. Sure I’ll find another bridge to bring me full circle back to my home. It feels too boring to just turn around and retrace my steps.

I struggle walking on the soft sand in my sneakers but I appreciate the slowness in which it makes me walk. I find a boardwalk and take it back towards the inlet.

I stumble upon a park, no doubt usually full of families and couples and friends enjoying themselves. But now the sun was threatening to touch the horizon, and it was only me. I see a raccoon staring at me. I try my best not to feel scared and keep walking. The park path takes me to a road I’m only vaguely familiar with. I know a left turn will take me back to the drawbridge, but a right turn feels more fun. I feel all too confident that I’ll find another way over the inlet to get home.

So I turn right.

I walk. And walk. And walk.

I appreciate the flora and fauna of my town.

The light slowly leaving the sky. Pink and gold.

The dark green of the bushes next to me.

The baby blue of the ocean visible across the street.

I wonder what time it is. How long I’ve been walking. If my husband is worried. If he’s mad at me for not being home yet, so close to dark. I remind myself of my own freedom but it doesn’t stop the guilt from growing in my stomach.

I take a path down a neighborhood praying for a way back home. When I reach the end of the neighborhood and realize there is none, I start to feel panic.

Retrace my steps. I can retrace my steps.

I walk at a higher pace, doing my best to retrace my steps but knowing I won’t be able to beat the sun. I’m not getting home before dusk.

I see a man running towards me and my stomach clenches. I look around to make sure I’m near enough cars to see in case anything happens.

He gets closer and I realize he’s wearing running attire. He’s just running for fun. Or exercise or whatever. I shove the thought out of my head at how easily someone could grab me. I choose not to think of that particular inequality I face as a woman.

I reach the bridge again. Relief, but not total. I still have a long walk.

Up and over the bridge.

Back to that fork in the road.

The sun has totally set. The city is buzzing and so is my mind. My feet are aching. My mind is empty.

30 minutes later and I’m home.

Thankful to be home. Disappointed to be home. Relieved. Saddened. Grateful. Disheartened. Glad.

Turns out I was gone about 2.5 hours. Walked over 5 miles. All without my phone. With no distraction, just me and my thoughts. My head was empty. It felt good.

I guess what I learned is to not let myself get so overwhelmed willingly. Set my phone down more often. Talk to my friends and family more. Give myself a break. Relieve the pressure. Exercise my free will. Do some random shit. Break the cycle. Go on more walks earlier in the day.

If you’re reading this I encourage you to do the same. Do something good for your brain today. Go on a walk or do a puzzle. Read a little. Make a cup of tea without haste. Learn to enjoy your life again!