Got the music for your walk right here…
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I used to walk all the time. A good 45 minutes every day just traipsing through the woods. Found a bunch of old car carcasses and a few forgotten graves from a long time ago.
Then I injured some tendon in my feet and it’s all been downhill from there. I can’t walk more than about a half mile before the feet start acting up. I miss it a lot.
If there’s no purpose to the walk but to walk (i.e. it’s not for physical health or to get to another physical destination), I’d say no. 
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Yes. I have walked for physical health and mental-emotional wellbeing since I was a teenager. I am now 62 and hike mountains, though I walk for the joy of it. In fact, a friend is coming over in a few minutes - for real - and we are going for a walk. For the record, he is in his mid-50s and we are both in great health.
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Of course, it did!
Don’t they all?
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I walk out to some rocks a few blocks away with whichever cats want to go, one, two or 3 times a day. I increases their sense of purpose and decreases mine. It’s a suburban environment but they get me seeing it differently and I’m greatful.
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Not the after dinner kind.
THE LAST drops of the thundershower had hardly ceased falling when the Pedestrian stuffed
his map into his pocket, settled his pack more comfortably on his tired shoulders, and stepped
out from the shelter of a large chestnut tree into the middle of the road. A violent yellow sunset
was pouring through a rift in the clouds to westward, but straight ahead over the hills the sky
was the colour of dark slate. Every tree and blade of grass was dripping, and the road shone
like a river. The Pedestrian wasted no time on the landscape but set out at once with the
determined stride of a good walker who has lately realized that he will have to walk farther than
he intended. That, indeed, was his situation. If he had chosen to look back, which he did not,
he could have seen the spire of Much Nadderby, and, seeing it, might have uttered a
malediction on the inhospitable little hotel which, though obviously empty, had refused him a
bed. The place had changed hands since he last went for a walking tour in these parts. The
kindly old landlord on whom he had reckoned had been replaced by someone whom the
barmaid referred to as ‘the lady,’ and the lady was apparently a British innkeeper of that
orthodox school who regard guests as a nuisance. His only chance now was Sterk, on the far
side of the hills, and a good six miles away. The map marked an inn at Sterk. The Pedestrian
was too experienced to build any very sanguine hopes on this, but there seemed nothing else
within range.
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I imagine you swimming, but in no less than a half-hour
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My husband and I used to go for a walk every night. Doesn’t happen so much now with the baby, but I do usually stick her in the pram and try to get out once a day.
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It had not occurred to me why I seem to have the best ideas when I’m on foot walking to work, I had assumed that it was my brain furiously trying to think of excuses to not got to work and to do something much more fun and lucrative. Sitting and staring at the blank page is not always the best way to vault that hurdle, and a stroll is a nice way to meet neighbourhood cats. Aimless wandering does seem like a pointless activity to me but it’s not that hard to think of a reason to go somewhere;
-you have the ability to walk
-you could be in prison but you aint
-the shop sells wine
-outdoor smells like gardens and stuff can be lovely
-if you live in an area that doesn’t smell nice you can slowly desensitise yourself to bad smells instead
As a biped I think all bipeds are weird, particularly humans. We’re just soft warm bags of liquid and hard bits that propel ourselves forward by balancing on one stick then toppling forward onto the other stick then using electrical signals we swing the first stick back round to take the weight and so on. Some of us do it very quickly and the whole world watches with bated breath to see which bag is the quickest bag then we all slam our smaller sticks together in joy and give those quick bags large metal discs to show that they are quick bags.
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Damn, it’s a long time since I’ve read that.
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And I was thinking of an American author -
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I lived outside of Scottsdale (fountain hills, if you know the place), and late night 95F dog walks were common. It is astounding how hot it can get. I actually miss the scorpion, tarantula, and javalina spotting at night.
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Shades of douglas adams there.
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That’s more a feature of Phoenix (metro area) than AZ or Tucson: all that damned concrete and asphalt. Phoenix is generally 10° hotter than here, and more so at night because of all the heat absorbed by parking lots, roads, etc. during the day. We’re still taking our tortoise in at night because it’s a bit cold for her.
Alas in midtown you are surrounded by so many heavily sprayed houses in every direction that we never see scorpions or tarantulas, at least in our neighborhood. The javelinas I usually see if I have to get up and out before 6am.
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Ha! Compliment accepted.
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