Sometimes late in the evening, the mood hits me, and I grab my hat and walking staff and head off in whatever direction I so choose. I do some of my best writing as I walk, because there is always something new, undiscovered, waiting just around the next bend, no matter how many times I have taken that same path.
Lately, I have neglected to walk like I should, even when my doctor instructs me to do so. Though the kind of walking she speaks of so often is more than a mere sauntering at a slow and contemplative pace like I prefer, I understand that I need to get my heart rate up in order for the exercise to do my body any good.
As far as elevating my spirit, however, there's nothing like a nice evening walk in the summertime. Or autumn, spring, or winter for that matter. In all seasons there are so many things to see, to draw inspiration from.
Just to get out and place my feet on solid ground, feel the earth move beneath me, improves my mental clarity, helps to relieve my stress and anxiety, and allows my lungs to fill with fresh air, my heart to pump oxygenated blood to all parts of my body and mind. As times goes by, each step building upon another, building upon another, and soon that steep hill becomes a pleasure, invigorating.
A mile becomes miles, and soon I am seeking out other paths to follow, or to make my own trail through my own patch of woods, or through my own neighborhood. A paved road will suffice when a dirt road might not be available.
This evening as I walk, my heart rate begins to soar, partly because of the incline I am treading on, partly because of the pretty flowers in bloom, the songbirds' evening trills, and the path ahead that leads me to where I want to go.
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