Vitamin Soothe

There’s something about the pounding of my feet on solid earth that soothes me. I’ve needed more of that, lately – the soothing. I keep finding myself drifting outside, tennis shoes laced, embarking on a walk or a jog or a lope, all unplanned. I wander my neighborhood. I circle city parks. I trek the grid of gravel roads that drapes the contours of the Blue Mountains like a shawl. Inevitably, I return feeling cleansed.

Most days I walk quickly, relishing the rhythm of breath through my lungs and blood through my veins. These days I thank God for my ability – the miracles of health and sight, and the freedom to travel safe paths without fear.

Other days I move slowly. I talk with my dog, examine flowers, search for birds. On these days, I often feel a different rhythm – the pulsing headaches that have become my companions this year. These days, I move gently, keeping the throbbing at bay. But these days, too, I thank God. I thank Him that I can still move. I thank Him that my pain is so small. I thank Him for the simple things that slowness reveals: Cloud shapes. Sounds of children at play. Sun and shadows sweeping the hills, silent travelers moving with a will and a destination I cannot comprehend.

On other days still, I move with near-mindless passion. Somewhere inside, I may relish my pumping muscles, my beating heart. But these days, I’m walking to survive. I scarcely take in my surroundings. My thoughts bump in a jumble, up and down in my mind and I make no effort to sort them. They are the reason I’m here, after all; they are the things I must soothe.

Eventually, the miracle always happens. In one mile or in seven, the pounding pace perseveres. My speedy steps slow, my focus returns, my breath and my thoughts flow freely once more. My thoughts may still be in a jumble, but they’ve been jostled to a manageable size. Thus subdued, I can pick them out one by one, examine them, and decide what I want to do.

Perhaps that’s the real reason I walk. Perhaps this movement provides a stand-in for all the actions I wish I could take. It offers a preliminary satisfaction that tricks my mind into a cease-fire, a lull just long enough for me to regroup, rearm, and reengage, feeling renewed.  

Whatever. It sounds like a good reason to me. All I really know is this: Walking works. I no longer judge those people I see on the road, the ones talking to themselves, swinging their arms way too high, their gaze focused inward or perhaps outward, far away. Those people are me. They’re walking their way to inner peace. I send them a mental salute whenever I pass them by. We travelers need all the support we can get.

This may sound wild, but maybe if more of us took to the roadsides and hills, allowing ourselves to look a little crazy, we’d find our own inner peace, too. Maybe that’s the first step toward healing: Giving ourselves a place and a way to process our troubling thoughts … one soothing footfall at a time.