Why I walk

I’ve always loved movement. Long before I had words like “grounding” or “wellness journey,” moving my body was how I soothed myself, how I made sense of the world, how I felt okay.

One of my earliest memories is walking into the fields with my dad, blackberry picking. I remember coming home feeling different. I couldn’t explain it, but it wasn’t the same as being inside watching TV or playing in my room. Something had shifted. Something had settled.

As I grew up, I realised I craved fresh air. I needed it daily. The hill walks of my youth evolved into solo beach strolls in the sun and wild mountain runs. Then came waddling whilst pregnant, heavy legs puffing for breath. That became the joy of walking miles with a tiny baby wrapped in a papoose, hearts beating side by side. Soon came pram pushes along the prom in all weathers, then double buggies, sometimes paired with a baby in a papoose, bringing me back to slow, heavy breathing.

Short walks with toddlers followed, enjoying that magical age where everything is fascinating, every shell and pebble must be examined. You end up the pack horse, carrying coats, treasures, and toys, but your heart is full of love and bliss.

Now, I’m in adventure-walk mode with excited children and their sticks, longer hikes with friends full of chats and quiet moments, and miles of mountain running with my husband, where I feel wild, fit, and free.

Even with babies and young children, I got outside every single day, whatever the weather. There honestly isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t move outdoors. To me, movement in nature is like food—it nourishes my soul. Sometimes I think I need to take my brain for a walk even more than my body.

People often ask me about motivation. Here’s the thing, you don’t wait for motivation. You start, and motivation comes.

Think of a Sunday afternoon after a big roast. Someone says, “Shall we go for a walk?” You might not feel like it at first. But the boots go on, your legs start moving, and before you know it, you’re loving it. Half an hour later, you’re back home, refreshed, saying, “I’m so glad I said yes.”

You never regret the movement.

One of the things I love most about walking is how simple it is. You can do it anywhere. Shoes on and go. Take a map and hike all day, or wander a new city to get your bearings. Spot a mountain, walk it. Happen upon a beach, explore it. Walking is the most accessible way I know to truly experience a place.

It’s also one of the easiest ways to build gentle fitness into your life. Habit-stack it onto something you already do. When I’m working from home, it’s lunch followed by a quick 20-minute stomp to the sea and back. It doesn’t have to be hours long. It just has to be consistent.

Why do I love it so deeply? Part of it comes from knowing how easily it could have been taken away.

At 18, I broke my back and very nearly lost the ability to walk. I spent months in rehabilitation, learning to trust my body again. I never take for granted that I can swing my legs out of bed each morning and walk, and run, freely. Being able to walk is a gift.

I walk tech-free. I don’t care how far, how fast, or how many steps I’ve clocked. I know instinctively whether I need a long walk or a short one, fast or slow. I rely on intuition rather than a watch or an app.

So the next time you think, “I can’t be bothered to walk,” try reframing it: “I can walk.”

Call a friend and make it a weekly ritual. Book a walking retreat and be inspired by a group. Or, if you find your equilibrium in solitude, make a quiet pact with yourself to get out once or twice more each week.

You’ll notice the seasons shifting. You’ll hear more, see more, feel more. You’ll feel more alive, alert, and ready for whatever the day brings.

And yes, you’ll feel more grounded.

Do you fancy a walking weekend away? View all of our 2026 walking retreats here.