Supercharge your writing with a daily walk
I have never been a fan of gratuitous exercise. If the options are sitting or moving about, I’ll go for sitting every time. I’m not lazy, exactly; I just don’t feel the need to run around to make myself look or feel busy. Sitting works for almost everything I enjoy doing. Eating, writing, reading, researching — even thinking.
I really only lie down to sleep, but I sit whenever possible. Sitting is maybe my favorite thing to do. My body rests while my mind works, and if I get really agitated, my leg will bounce up and down, but that’s about the extent of my typical physical exertion without serious effort.
A little over a year ago, or it might have been two, I discovered I was severely anemic, and once I solved that little conundrum, along with cutting out most alcohol and sugar, I proceeded to lose nearly 70lbs. Part of my new regimen was regular exercise that took the form of walking. I began working from home, which gave me more flexibility, and I stopped going out to lunch. I began walking instead. It made a difference.
We have a lovely bike trail that stretches for some 30 miles across the length of the county, and it’s a nice place to walk, but it entails getting in a car and driving two and a half miles just to get on it. I found that to be one more obstacle I didn’t need, so I started closer to home.
I live on a rural road that dead-ends at the edge of the marsh, with one length of it measuring just under a half mile. If I walk up and down my street — twice — plus once around a side cul-de-sac, it’s 2.04 miles, and takes me about 35 minutes. I try to do that every day, as long as it’s not raining and otherwise reasonably comfortable for humans. I’ve walked from 28º to 98ºF, and I have neither melted nor frozen, although I do find it less than comfortable at the extremes.
Normally, it’s just fine.
I don’t know the scientific explanation for it, but I can unequivocally state, without question, that walking aids the mind in forming new thoughts and discovering new ideas. There’s something about mindless physical activity that expands the mind and allows for new concepts to seep in from your subconscious.
Many famous authors, scientists, comedians, and actors have advocated for the value of long walks to fuel creative thinking. From psychologists Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, comedian Jerry Seinfeld, and poet gourmand Jim Harrison, the daily walk refills the soul and opens up possibilities.
According to a quick internet search, it is well known that even moderate exercise pumps oxygen to the brain, which increases processing power and aids in creativity, while walking provides a secondary, background activity that leaves our brains open to working on more complex subjects. It’s what the kids today call a “life hack,” but like most things, is old as time.
This all tracks, of course, so presumably not all that mysterious, but it’s amazing how often we’ll avoid even brief, moderate exercise because we think we’re too busy to bother. There’s an old quote by Martin Luther (I think), about how he had to begin each day with an hour of prayer, unless he was really busy, in which case he required two hours.
I rarely listen to music on my walks, preferring instead to listen to podcasts or audiobooks. I don’t think of it as a time to ponder other things, such as ideas I’m interested in writing about, although those thoughts creep in. I suppose I could be more productive by listening to music, or even nothing at all, but I have chosen to use this time to fill my cup, not to work. I listen to writers, scientists, comedians, and philosophers to hear what big ideas they have, and that informs what I want to write about.
Sometimes, I get so distracted by my own thoughts that I stop listening to the words coming through my headphones. I am forced to pause it, or rewind, or even switch over to music and continue letting my brain run wild. Occasionally, I will jot down a note on my phone to remind myself of something later, or I will note the time on the podcast so I can go back and listen again to some salient point I may want to reference.
I often use books and podcasts as introductions to primary sources. This talk leads to that author, which leads to another book I need to read. I enjoy thinkers who have the power to open my eyes and expand my mind. I enjoy learning new things and discovering that I was wrong about others. It’s exciting stuff.
My wife will occasionally ask me if I want to go for a walk, as if she’s offering me cake and ice cream. No, I don’t want to go for a walk. She doesn’t mean casually strolling and talking. She means a five-mile workout. I might find this necessary for survival, but it’s not my idea of a good time. I also don’t like walking with anyone else, because it makes the whole thing take twice as long. Your mind can’t wander when someone else is involved.
I honestly do not enjoy the walk itself, but appreciate the positive after-effects, as I feel good knowing I’ve already walked. It’s almost always too hot, cold, windy, or wet to be enjoyable, but even if it were perfect, I’d just be trying to get it done. I’ve never finished a planned walk and thought to myself, “This is so much fun I should just keep going.”
I recognize the benefits of walking outside, especially through the nearby forest, as opposed to up and down my street, but this adds close to an hour to the enterprise. It’s nice as a special weekend outing, and my wife and I do that regularly, but it’s not realistic for me as a daily ritual. I need to be able to walk out the door and right back in a half hour later, and require the fewest excuses possible for not bothering to take 30 minutes for a short walk.
Generally speaking, when I’m moderately active and get my two miles in, I average a little over 5k steps a day. This is nowhere near the 10k steps you hear bandied about, but I’m convinced it’s enough to get my heart rate up and burn a few calories. I used to shoot for 4–5 miles, but that’s at least an hour, which I could probably do, but it’s a clear block of time in my head, one that I don’t always feel I can afford in the middle of a busy day. I’d rather walk shorter distances with more consistency and frequency.
For most of my life, my father was a world-class walker. He walked hard and fast and did so like a postman, with neither rain, sleet, snow, nor hail keeping him from his appointed rounds. He walked at night, usually after dinner, if I remember correctly. I recall him coming home in the dark, bundled up from the cold, out on one of his walks. He discouraged company on these walks because it was his alone time, a chance to clear his head, and chatty children were not part of the program. Still, I remember joining him a few times.
My father believed in a long stride and a vigorous movement of the arms to propel oneself along the road of life. When he saw someone walking and swinging their arms, he would comment, “Now there’s a serious walker.” According to my father, if you were going to bother walking, it was best to do so with purpose. No dallying. No stopping to smell the roses. No tomfoolery. Like so many things in life, including driving, he was constantly looking “to make good time.”
I was never aware of whether or not he timed himself, but I find it hard to believe he did not, given that his life was organized into a series of events, all choreographed with various alarms he set on his digital watch. This was a Casio, or something like it, and decades before the advent of smart watches like Apple and Fitbit would eventually invent. He was never competitive with people, but was a steadfast chronicler of his own pace through the race of life. He even walked to work.
I live at the corner of a rural, two-lane state highway and a road that dead-ends into a landing on a marsh creek that was once part of a shipyard in the 18th century. My house was built in 1725 and was at various times a tavern and stagecoach stop for travelers making the journey from Philadelphia to Cape May. It’s called The Tavern House. It’s one of the older parts of the New World.
Most of the houses on this little street are less than 50 years old, many of them less than 15. I guess it was all farmland before that. About halfway down is a little rancher that a friend of ours built as a modular home for the owner. They own a bunch of goats, the number of which is constantly changing, for reasons that are not entirely clear. There have been as many as 30–40, but currently there can’t be a dozen of them.
There used to be a couple of Scottish Highland cows, but they’ve been moved to a different pasture behind the house, not visible from the road. Apparently, they were accidentally stepping on the goats, which is a problem. You often see Scottish Highlands as young calves, and they’re freaking adorable, but a full-sized cow is enormous with a huge rack. They’re gentle giants, but you wouldn’t want to accidentally get in their way.
The author Bill Bryson, who lives in England now, writes, “To my mind, the only possible pet is a cow. Cows love you. They are harmless, they look nice, they don’t need a box to crap in, they keep the grass down, and they are so trusting and stupid that you can’t help but lose your heart to them. Where I live in Yorkshire, there’s a herd of cows down the lane. You can stand by the wall at any hour of the day or night, and after a minute, the cows will all waddle over and stand with you, much too stupid to know what to do next, but happy just to be with you. They will stand there all day, as far as I can tell, possibly till the end of time. They will listen to your problems and never ask a thing in return. They will be your friends forever. And when you get tired of them, you can kill them and eat them. Perfect.”
I pass these animals at least four times most days, and they couldn’t be less interested in my passing. Even when I call to them, they refuse to look up from their perpetual chomping, being self-involved as they are.
Goats have crazy eyes, which is likely why they’ve so often been associated with evil throughout history. They really are demonic-looking, like snakes with hooves and horns. Yea, though I walk through the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art goats. The Bible is not kind to goats, who are always shunned in favor of sheep for reasons passing understanding. Goats at least seem to have a clue, whereas the only thing dumber in the barnyard than sheep are the chickens.
I don’t think of myself as any more neurodivergent than your typical artist, which simply means that we’re all a little off, but I have my moments. I rarely walk in a straight line because I’m avoiding stepping on things in my path. Sticks, leaves, pods, cracks, and bugs. These are littered along the road my entire journey, and require a certain amount of vigilance even though I’m both listening to someone talking in my ears and thinking about other things entirely.
I lengthen or shorten my stride to avoid stepping on things, or even lining up with driveways, sidewalks, and sewer grates. You’d be surprised at just how many bugs one sees on nearly all but the coldest days. When the sun warms the earth, you can’t believe what crawls out or flies around. It’s a few days before Christmas, and there was a fly outside my back door the other day, clearly confused and despondent.
There’s a lot going on out there.
The busier we are, the more in need of inspiration and clarity of thought, the greater the need for regular exercise. The optimal schedule, or so I’ve been led to believe, is to delay caffeine for a few hours, and instead begin by doing some light exercise, then showering and getting dressed, and only then making coffee and getting to the work of writing. This way your brain is properly primed, and you get the full effect of the caffeine.
This requires more discipline than I care to exert, not to mention that the earlier it is, the less enthusiastic I am about walking, especially when it’s cold and dark. But it does make sense. Getting dressed in workout gear, directly after waking, and going for a walk would certainly be sufficient to wake me up and get the blood flowing. Come home and do a little light reading, a little news, social media, then after I’ve cooled down, shower and dress for the day. I’d be awake, dressed, and ready to go, brain fully wired. I’d then spike my brain with caffeine and start writing.
It’s worth a try.
The thing about writing that so many people starting out get wrong is that you can’t just sit down and start writing without a little prep. You have to feed the engine and lubricate the gears. You have to prime the pump. Reading is a big part of this, which can also take the form of listening to audiobooks and podcasts. Hopefully, you are ingesting new information and discovering fresh ideas that challenge your preconceptions and shake up your biases, because this is fertile ground for discovery.
There’s no point in collecting data that reinforces what you already think you know. It’s the same reason why we learn little from success and nearly everything from failure. Cast a wide net and feel free to wander. Having a plan sounds great, but if it’s more than a suggestion, it’s not going to lead you where you want to go.
The path I walk most days is well-worn and offers little in the way of intellectual stimulation, which is by design. My intention is to let my imagination run wild, and the only way that’s going to happen is if I distract my mind with mundane, mindless activity. You have to keep the logical side of your brain occupied so you can free your imagination.
It doesn’t have to be walking. It could be vacuuming the house, cleaning the bathroom, or doing the dishes. Folding laundry works as well, plus you get a real sense of accomplishment, and who doesn’t like burying their face in fresh, warm fabric? Anything you can do that requires little bandwidth.
In the warm weather months, it’s yard work for me. Mowing and edging, raking and blowing. I put in my headphones and get to work. When I’m finished, I’m ready to get down to the real business at hand and start writing. Works like a charm.
If you want to unleash your imagination, you have to distract that monkey mind of yours by giving it a mundane task. The dumber the better. Only then will you be free to wander, get lost, and discover new ideas. So, get out there and do dumb shit.
You’ll thank me.
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