Two Steps Forward, One Step Forward
Issue 45 is ahead of Issue 44
Dear Readers,
Saturday, I left my house at 6:20 am. I arrived home again at 6:15 pm—five minutes shy of 12 hours. I walked 26 miles. Unplugged. Unaltered. Outside. Alone. But why?
Call it impulse, call it curiosity, when something piques my interest, I don’t question its value, I dive in.
Enter, the 12-hour walk. I heard Colin O’Brady (a man I had no familiarity with) talk about his book on a podcast called The Good Life Project. An extreme sportsman, Colin has done expeditions that hurt the soul to imagine—crossing Antarctica on foot being one. His version of an every-person’s challenge is an unplugged, 12-hour walk. That I can do.
It doesn’t take me more than a moment to know I’ll get something from the experience, and it will be positive. Knowing that, I make it happen.
I left my house at 6:20 am with a cup of coffee, a water bottle, a backpack, sunscreen, my phone (on airplane mode), a credit card (no Apple Pay on airplane mode), chapstick, sunglasses, a hat, Aquaphor, and a jacket.
I took three photos, very intentionally not reaching for my phone when something interested me. I never looked at directions—I had no place to be. Tiny glass computers we carry in our pockets pose a slippery slope. You open them for one reason and 10 apps and 10 texts later, you’ve lost yourself. I couldn’t risk it. Unplugging is one of the primary purposes of this challenge. I have discipline.
A day without time and space is foreign and freeing. With no agenda and nowhere to be—12 hours is an extremely long time.
When I looked at my watch for the first time, I had been walking for four hours—just eight more to go—sobering. I trodded on. Up the hills, over the bridge, under the tunnel, through the park, through the city, into the next park, to the de Young Museum.
After a measly noodle salad, a self-inflicted root rub, and a stretch on the grass, I began the 13ish-mile walk home. I felt no pressure to make it home in time. Lyft is a call away if I were to end the 12 hours far from home. In this way, it’s a different way of life. It truly doesn’t matter where you go. Untethered, in all its glory, there’s a touch of loneliness when you wander without a destination. There’s heaps of purpose in this journey, but not by society’s definition, which is probably the tinge of separateness I felt.
No planning or reaching for the phone, queuing up podcasts, fixing earbuds, checking directions, responding to the micro shocks—none of them matter. This is life, simplified.
I did not work through my deepest issues or receive divine intervention. I don’t know what I spent 12 hours thinking about. Honestly, I don’t know what, if anything, I thought about.
Being without media largely unfazed me (except for the last two miles when I desperately wanted to share my pain with someone).
Walking the bike path between Sausalito and Mill Valley, my hat cocked to the left to shield me from the sun, head lowered to avoid awareness, I sang out loud to get me through the final, hardest moments.
As it turns out, without music prompting me to sing along, my song library is very, very slim. You don’t realize this until you’re blistered and begging for relief. Here are the songs I could muster 1/3 of the words to, on repeat: Manic Monday, Sitting on the Dock of the Bay, You Are My Sunshine, and the Apartment Song. These were the darkest moments.
Like clockwork, I arrived home within five minutes of the 12 hours—100% unplanned. Remarkable, actually. 🏡
Try it. There’s zero competition. Go as slow or fast as you’d like. This is your time. Spend it unplugged, mostly moving, and you’re bound to have a new experience.
I’ll see you out there.❤️
Home Is Where the Cobwebs Are
The fastest way to an unkept home is spider webs collecting out front. Take a broom and clean off your front door, back door, steps, overhangs, mailboxes, and wherever you see webs, leaves, and other detritus.
If the eyes are the window to the soul, the entrance to the home is the entrance to the home. #keepitclean
Word Lesson
I had to look this up for the above “cobweb story.” I figured we could all use the lesson.
Unkept usually describes things, and means, not tidy or well-kept.
Unkempt usually describes a person’s appearance, although it can be applied to objects. It literally means, “not well-combed.”
BMOC
I cornered the big man on campus in a doorway for a photo on the first day of school. He was thrilled. So was I.
I’m Sorry
Do what Dr. Becky says. She has three kids, a Ph.D., and fantastic wisdom about parenting.
I sent this to one friend (Hi, Charlie!) who said, “Geez, this applies to adults (read: me) too!” I sent her to another friend (Hi, Sarah!) who said, “Look at the bags under her eyes.” There you have it. Follow her. Share her. Subscribe to her. Your family will benefit. I promise.
I’m Sorry (for Her Outfit)
Here for the Simone 12-hour walk singing playlist.
Amazing! The walk sounds brilliant. Hope you didn’t have too many blisters. Randomly curious what shoes you wore? And I think Owen’s hair is the best.