Walkers Walks for Walking’s Sake

Walking Man 1, Alberto Giacometti (1960)

I love to go for a run. It’s a great stress reliever. But running is a pretty mindless activity, as evidenced by the fact that one of the world’s great super-long distance runners has no short term memory (see the recent article in the NYTimes). Perhaps it’s because running is a goal-oriented activity, unlike one of my favourite other de-stressors: an evening constitutional.

W.H. Auden, who was known to take long walks with friends, hit on the purposeless nature of this activity in his charming poem (you guessed it), “Walks.”

I choose the road from here to there
When I’ve a scandalous tale to bear,
Tools to return or books to lend
To someone at the other end.

Returning afterwards, although
I meet my footsteps toe to toe,
The road looks altogether new
Now that is done I meant to do.

But I avoid it when I take
A walker’s walk for walking’s sake:
The repetition it involves
Raises a doubt it never solves.

[...]

No, when a fidget of the soul
Or cumulus clouds invite a stroll,
The route I take goes roundabout
To finish where it started out.

The sense of wonder and escape a walk provides was captured by Walt Whitman in his “Song of the Open Road.” The lengthy poem, in typical Whitman fashion, evolves into a rhapsodic metaphor about common purpose. But it starts out simple, the way a walk should.

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

While Whitman emphasizes the beauty and possibility of setting out on a walk, Robert Frost emphasizes the walk as a time to contemplate life’s endings. Here, Frost walks through the “headless aftermath” of a mowed field and observes a lonely tree. But this doleful occasion does yield one blossom:

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.

So whether it’s a “walk in the snow” or “walk after midnight, out in the moonlight,” a walk is a great time to savour life’s joy and sadness, and return with at least one aster flower.