When I was a little girl, my parents dragged us on many ‘bushwalks’. We would pile into the car, drive far into the rolling hills and tumble out somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

Step. Step. Step. Tumble.

Rocks were slick, ferns laced over winding and twisting paths. Trees towered overhead, watching. We trudged along reluctantly, finding waterfalls and stopping for a spell to watch the mist rise.

I didn’t love it. The predominant memories I retain from these experiences relate more to shortness of breath, steep upward climbs and spiders winding their silken webs across unsuspecting paths.

Walking seems to be such a worthwhile activity that I mentally rebuke myself for not enjoying it. We live in a friendly neighbourhood surrounded by paths and parks, but I would much rather load the kids into the car and drive a short distance than make the trek.

I feel at times that maybe I’m the only one who doesn’t enjoy the feeling of wind whipping around my face as I push forward, the monotonous rhythm of my feet meeting the pavement.

Maybe I can still learn?

I’m trying something new this month – #Write31Days with a talented community of other writers. We free write for five minutes each day guided by a prompt. Today’s prompt is ‘walk’. 

For more information on 31 Days of Five Minute Free Writes, check out Christina Hubbard’s site!