Walking as Refuge and Rebellion
Moving under my own steam, for my own purposes, at my own pace, has been a lifeline for me since my early teenage years. It was a revelation the first time I simply walked out the door instead of standing there taking the abuse I was expected to absorb. It was a revelation when, as a pedestrian, I could just change directions and thwart the car trying force me back into what I had just walked away from. Walking has always been a place of refuge and power for me, and I could never understand why so few people were out on foot in my early Southern suburban life.
When I was free of that environment and in better ones, I still walked. Nothing is quite like exploring a new place at a walking pace. The rules and expectations of a place become clear, and it’s easier to feel just a little bit more about who might live there and who they are as a collection of people. In some places, like the swank Atlanta neighborhood where I got stopped and questioned by a Concerned Citizen, not only am I clearly out of place but I am clearly defying expectations. In many cities, I get stopped and asked for directions, because only a local would be out walking around, right? And in many places I have to decide whether to forge ahead in deeply inhospitable architecture that just wasn’t made for humans — an overpass, a busy road with no sidewalk, a desolate strip of land that I can walk on, but get the distinct impression that maybe I’m the only person who ever has.
On foot, I get to realize at a visceral level how difficult it is to move around most populated American spaces under my own power, and how much harder it would be if I had any mobility issues, or were a bit browner or a bit more female-identified or any number of things that would make it deeply unsafe to explore the way I do. I am never unaware of the privilege I possess when walking around a place that isn’t specifically for walking, just as I am always alert about whether I’m about to cross some invisible line from safe to unsafe. The invisible becomes a lot more visible at 3 miles per hour.
A Big Goal to Relearn How to Do Big Goals
It would be charitable to call me an “intense type A personality.” Some of it may be inborn, but a lot of it was carefully cultivated by an abusive upbringing that fucked my head up pretty good for a long, long time. Thank everything that’s holy for a supportive partner, patient and forgiving friends, therapy, middle age, and distance from horrible people.
Even with all of that support, it’s essentially impossible to do something just because I want to. One of the biggest lies I internalized is that every waking moment must clearly contribute to some Socially Acceptable Purpose that Other People Will Be Impressed By. I know a lot of people who have wound up in the same place I have, for any number of reasons. Our society makes it hard not to.
I’m trying, very belatedly, to change my relationship with how, when, and — most important — why I move through space. I’m trying to just move every day, not for anything, but just because. I’m trying to run when I feel like it, not for mileage or speed, but just because it’s joyful to run. It’s fucking hard to do this, ya’ll. The 3 pounds of brain in my head is an extraordinary obstacle to the many more pounds of body that want to move through space.
So why on earth would I set a goal of moving under my own power (walking and/or jogging) at least 50Km in all 50 states by the end of my 50th year, if I’m trying to change my relationship with physical movement?
The first reason is simple: in 2015 my partner and I walked the Great Glen Way. Eighty miles across Scotland in a week, taking canal towpaths and roaming up mountain passes. It planted a seed that long walks could and should be accomplished closer to home.
The main reason is a lot more complicated. I hope that I have an opportunity to evict— or at least tame — some brainweasels that are so ingrained I can’t even imagine a life without them. Setting a goal like this is 100% the act of someone who is an intense type A person, so it is a thing that’s familiar. But I don’t think I can actually accomplish it if I approach it in my usual way, so I’m basically trying to trick myself into adapting some behaviors. If this works, I hope to be able to simply ramble and enjoy it, having learned how as part of this journey. And if it doesn’t, then it’ll keep me occupied for awhile.
Please allow me to introduce the menagerie in my head. You might know a few of these.
Brainweasel #1: The completeness-and-perfection weasel. I have given myself a time frame of about 5 years, and I do have a full-time job that can’t be neglected. Nobody but me cares whether I ever walk another step. I have decided to claim 6 states as completed, since I can verify I have walked at least 50K in each of them prior to setting myself this challenge. This high-strung brainweasel says that any small defect completely negates any success that came before, and that claiming 6 states is cheating so I lose before I begin.
Brainweasel #2: The not-enoughness weasel. I have set an attainable goal that is a bit of a stretch due to time and money constraints. This brainweasel whispers to me about Other People who are More Enough than me. Other people run 50Ks, or 100Ks, or 100 milers. There was that comedian guy on TV who did that ultra and he was less fit than I am right now when he started. This is a stupid, pointless goal because it isn’t hard enough so really why bother?
Brainweasel #3: The distractable drill instructor weasel. The whole purpose of this effort is to embrace joy, specifically the joy in exploring new things. It’s actually all about the journey, not the destination, and I’m sooooo bad at that. This weasel barks at me that it doesn’t matter how you get the distance in, just get it done. Hated that walk? In pain? Got other priorities? Tough shit, you set yourself this goal and you’re going to fucking be #1 at it.
Brainweasel #4: The guilt-tripping weasel. I will probably fail, but not until I’ve spent a fair bit of money on travel and dragged my partner around the country and driven my few remaining friends crazy with my latest obsessive pursuit. This will take up a good bit of time and mental energy. Travel is involved so there’s also the whole carbon question. This weasel tells me I’m being unbelievably selfish and have absolutely no justification for it and I’m going to fail anyway so I need to quit before I embarrass myself.
Brainweasel #5: The insecurity weasel. Or, the voice that reminds me of all of the inescapably shitty things I am that are reasons to simply be embarrassed to live and move through space. I am old, fat, selfish, have some health issues that can be embarrassing when they crop up, need to focus on my job like a real grown up, and on and on. I have not ever been this old, it’s true. I have carried much more, and much less, weight than currently makes up my physical form and know that the world is neither kind nor gentle with larger bodied folk no matter how fit they are. I definitely need to focus on my job like a real grown up. And writing all of this down in a public space makes this weasel go totally wild.
I’m sure there are more brainweasels that I’ll uncover on this journey. They all have some positive and adaptive things to offer me, and I’m grateful for those things. But they’re largely maladaptive little liars at this point and I need them a little quieter on the hurting part and louder on the helping part.
Here’s my message to the weasels — mine and yours: walking 50K in even one place is an accomplishment to be proud of no matter how long it takes. Trying for all of the states is not insignificant, and most important, not meeting the goal does not diminish the fact that I’m setting out on the path in the first place. I walk and run because it gives me joy. I travel and experience new places on foot because it connects me in a meaningful way to the place and the people of that place. My age, weight, and other things complicate the planning but don’t negate any of this. And I am setting myself a goal to embrace all of this for the next 5 years, in absolute defiance of everything inside me that screams that I should not.
Documenting This Journey
I’m mostly writing this for myself, and I’m putting it out in public to add that much more pressure to finish the journey when I’m 3 years in and am finding “reasons” to quit.
For anybody who recognizes the brainweasels, for anybody who is into moving under your own power but don’t conform to people’s expectations of who is allowed to do “fitness things,” for anybody letting your weasels tell you that you’re too [old/fat/busy/insert your personal whatever here] to achieve something, maybe some of this will resonate and support your journey in some small way.
And for anybody who just wants tips on good, safe, long distance walks (that don’t involve camping, because tents and I do not get along) in all 50 states, or is trying to figure out how to plan for something like this — come on the journey with me. It isn’t like prepping for through-hiking the Big Trails, or even like training for marathons or ultras. It’s something else entirely, something I’ve struggled to find good resources for in the US. I’m hoping that documenting my lessons learned can lower the barriers to other freewalkers and that soon I won’t be the lone lunatic on a long, long walk.
I have set myself a goal of completing at least 50Km in all 50 states by the time I’m 50. To acknowledge that I’m traveling on land that was stolen from others, I am donating $500 to the First Nations Development Institute for each state I complete.
Thank you for reading and supporting me on this journey. If you’re able to chip in — for your state, or for all 50 states — you’ll help me double the impact I’m able to make on my own.
