Walking back to happiness...

I think that I am what most people would call lazy when it comes to physical activity. Most of my friends joke about the number of times I have started a fitness regime that has lasted anything from a few months to a few hours.

I start off very enthusiastically and can maintain that viewpoint for a while but never manage to be able to make it stick as a permanent lifestyle change. The lure of a nice curry and a couple of hours lounging in front of the television is just too much for me.

One activity has stuck with me though for the last couple of years. I love to go hill walking. Yesterday, it was the wonderful ruggedness of Dartmoor that drew me.

I’m sure there will be some of you out there scoffing at this as a suggestion of physical activity, but you’ve probably never done it. As I sit in work today I feel more physically drained than if I had done the toughest workout session in the Gym. I have muscles that usually lie dormant that are screaming for attention and a flight of stairs this morning felt like some kind of medieval torture chamber. Basically, it hurts to move.

So why do I keep coming back to something that makes me feel this way? I’m not a masochist and I certainly don’t enjoy feeling like I’ve doubled my age overnight. No, the thing that makes me go back time and time again is the feeling standing astride a Tor or a Mountain and seeing no signs of civilisation for miles.

Maybe it’s because I’ve lived in large towns or cities all my life, but to not be able to see another living soul (walking companions excepted) or hear the noise of cars racing past is something very special. Proper silence, where on a calm day you can hear nothing at all. It is a beautiful thing.

The views are another reason for my love of this pastime. You can sit and each lunch with a panoramic vista unparalleled by anything the city can provide. A sense of enormous well being always surrounds me at such times and all of life’s little niggles are a world away. The walk I did yesterday took my companions and I past waterfalls, through rocky valleys, over magnificent tors and (at times) through some really boggy marshes.

The final reason for my love of walking is the sense of achievement it provides. It can be very tough towards the end of a walk to muster enough energy to put one foot in front of the other. To keep going when you’re feet ache and your legs feel like every last ounce of energy has been replaced by lead weights is tough. When you finally reach your goal it feels wonderful. It clears the head in no other way I know. If ever I am feeling sorry for myself it makes me feel better and happier.

My aim is to try and get out and about once a month. I hope I can achieve this.