Walking for Rhythm – Finding the step, step, step, step

I find walking rhythmic.

The step, step, step, step of a potter from somewhere to nowhere moves from my feet to my lungs.

In my lungs the step, step, step, step says “in, out, in, out”.

The in, out, in, out of my lungs say to my heart “pump-pump, pump-pump, pump-pump, pump-pump”.

Somehow that rhythm says to the rest of my body “calm, calm, calm, calm”.

When I’m walking up a particularly steep bit of a hill I’ll count each step in a rhythm – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 1, 2, 3… – continuing my progress, slowly, and rhythmically. When my body says that it’s time to stop I’ll make myself continue to the end of the current set of 10 almost likes it’s a bar in music. When it’s really, really steep I’ll make myself stop every two or three sets just to keep the rhythm.

Step, step, step, step.

One of the reasons that I avoid the very popular mountain paths where it’s become necessary to put in rock steps is because the uneven rocks destroy the rhythm, particularly coming down hill. It’s difficult to keep with the beat when you have to measure your every step.

In, out, in, out.

My working life has very little rhythm to it, each day the meetings, the conversations and the emails are all on different topics. A working day is really a set of interruptions, even in meetings it’s difficult not to get interrupted. Sometimes the stack of interruptions gets so high that I forget what the one at the bottom is. Then when the interruptions stop for a few minutes I don’t know what to do because the rhythm has been reduced to a cacophony. At times like this a few minutes walking reminds my whole being of the days rhythm and the calm returns, I’m far more productive in the calm.

Pump-pump, pump-pump, pump-pump, pump-pump.

A joys of a walk before work is knowing that I start the day with a tempo set by the steps I’ve already invested. While I try to make my morning walk stretching I deliberately avoid rushing it, I like to feel the beat. Days without a walk always feel a bit discordant.

Calm, calm, calm, calm.

The daily rhythms build into weekly rhythms.

The weekly rhythms build into seasonal rhythms.

Perhaps we’ll come back to that.

How can you explain that you need to know that the trees are still there, and the hills and the sky? Anyone knows they are. How can you say it is time your pulse responded to another rhythm, the rhythm of the day and the season instead of the hour and the minute? No, you cannot explain. So you walk.

Author unknown, from New York Times editorial, “The Walk,” 25 October 1967