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| One Foot in Front of the Other: How a Daily Walk Helps Us Cope | One Foot in Front of the Other: How a Daily Walk Helps Us Cope |
| (7 days later) | |
| Many people in the United States are spending most of their time at home, whether by choice, by government order or for a lack of anywhere else to go. With the coronavirus sickening thousands more each day, a walk outside is one of the few options for escaping the drumbeat of bad news. | Many people in the United States are spending most of their time at home, whether by choice, by government order or for a lack of anywhere else to go. With the coronavirus sickening thousands more each day, a walk outside is one of the few options for escaping the drumbeat of bad news. |
| We asked readers to tell us about the walks they are taking, what they see on their travels and how they feel as they cover old ground or explore new paths. | We asked readers to tell us about the walks they are taking, what they see on their travels and how they feel as they cover old ground or explore new paths. |
| They wrote of stepping outside of their homes, outside of their deepening anxieties, outside of the sense that time is now measured against job losses, infections and death. They told us about waving to train conductors, like a child; about a flower’s flash of color and its scent on the breeze, filtered through the fabric of a mask; and about the realization “that there are some things that survive, and that those things can be counted on to bring peace.” | They wrote of stepping outside of their homes, outside of their deepening anxieties, outside of the sense that time is now measured against job losses, infections and death. They told us about waving to train conductors, like a child; about a flower’s flash of color and its scent on the breeze, filtered through the fabric of a mask; and about the realization “that there are some things that survive, and that those things can be counted on to bring peace.” |
| Our photographers took walks of their own to translate these sentiments into images. | Our photographers took walks of their own to translate these sentiments into images. |
| When I walk around my neighborhood, I see the bus stop I don’t go to anymore and the eyes of my neighbors, peeking out above face masks made of bandannas, T-shirts and, once, just lace. | When I walk around my neighborhood, I see the bus stop I don’t go to anymore and the eyes of my neighbors, peeking out above face masks made of bandannas, T-shirts and, once, just lace. |
| I stroll my 1-year-old daughter in a loop around our neighborhood every day, at least once. We pass beautiful, varied houses on large lots with all different kinds of native Californian lawns. | I stroll my 1-year-old daughter in a loop around our neighborhood every day, at least once. We pass beautiful, varied houses on large lots with all different kinds of native Californian lawns. |
| We see butterflies, cactuses, chickens, front-yard farms, small fields of tall grasses, benches covered in moss, little free libraries, mostly no fences and what I imagine are friendly faces under masks. | We see butterflies, cactuses, chickens, front-yard farms, small fields of tall grasses, benches covered in moss, little free libraries, mostly no fences and what I imagine are friendly faces under masks. |
| I miss breathing in the air without a double layer of fabric between my nose and the jasmine and rose and orange blossoms. | I miss breathing in the air without a double layer of fabric between my nose and the jasmine and rose and orange blossoms. |
| — Danya Shults, Los Angeles | — Danya Shults, Los Angeles |
| Oh, let me tell you what I see! Every day I journey to my cove, a small beach nestled into the edge of the lake. I close my eyes and listen to the waves. Their steady rhythm reminds me that some aspects of my life are untouched by the virus. | Oh, let me tell you what I see! Every day I journey to my cove, a small beach nestled into the edge of the lake. I close my eyes and listen to the waves. Their steady rhythm reminds me that some aspects of my life are untouched by the virus. |
| The Covid-19 pandemic has turned most of our worlds upside down. But my world had already been turned upside down just weeks before the virus took hold in our area, when my father died suddenly on Feb. 1 at age 65. He went for a hike alone in the woods on a Saturday afternoon, had a heart attack and never made it back to the trailhead. | The Covid-19 pandemic has turned most of our worlds upside down. But my world had already been turned upside down just weeks before the virus took hold in our area, when my father died suddenly on Feb. 1 at age 65. He went for a hike alone in the woods on a Saturday afternoon, had a heart attack and never made it back to the trailhead. |
| Now, faced with the loneliness of grief compounded by the loneliness of a world in lockdown, I find myself drawn to those woods where my father spent his final hours. | Now, faced with the loneliness of grief compounded by the loneliness of a world in lockdown, I find myself drawn to those woods where my father spent his final hours. |
| I am met with a sense of awe that as our world feels like it has come to a halt amidst a seemingly unfathomable amount of collective despair and worry, the natural world carries on oblivious to the current plight of its most influential inhabitants. And when I stop to rearrange the baskets of flowers I have left at the base of the broken tree where firefighters found my father’s cold body that February night, I remember that, despite how dark a time this seems to be, I have so much to be grateful for. | I am met with a sense of awe that as our world feels like it has come to a halt amidst a seemingly unfathomable amount of collective despair and worry, the natural world carries on oblivious to the current plight of its most influential inhabitants. And when I stop to rearrange the baskets of flowers I have left at the base of the broken tree where firefighters found my father’s cold body that February night, I remember that, despite how dark a time this seems to be, I have so much to be grateful for. |
| Unlike so many now, my family was fortunate to be able to gather for a funeral for my father. Although my father died alone, he was not isolated in a hospital but in the company of the natural world that he so loved. | Unlike so many now, my family was fortunate to be able to gather for a funeral for my father. Although my father died alone, he was not isolated in a hospital but in the company of the natural world that he so loved. |
| — Carolyn Duman, Guilford, Conn. | — Carolyn Duman, Guilford, Conn. |
| Updated July 23, 2020 | |
| There’s the moment of stopping, standing still, taking a deep breath and listening to the wind’s movement through the branches and weathered grasses, the overlapping sounds of fluttering, scratching and birdsong, the feel and smell of the outdoor air. And then I notice they were always there — birds, insects, land animals, just doing what they do, these presents I get for being present, quiet and still. | There’s the moment of stopping, standing still, taking a deep breath and listening to the wind’s movement through the branches and weathered grasses, the overlapping sounds of fluttering, scratching and birdsong, the feel and smell of the outdoor air. And then I notice they were always there — birds, insects, land animals, just doing what they do, these presents I get for being present, quiet and still. |
| — Yvette Conklin, Chicago | — Yvette Conklin, Chicago |