How often do you walk or run?
Running Out of Miles, Walking into Autumn
✍️Author’s Note
This reflection began with a simple question about walking and running, but inevitably became something else.
For many years, running was part of the rhythm of my life. It offered movement, solitude, discipline and the peculiar freedom of travelling through a landscape under one’s own power. Eventually the body imposed a different pace, and running gave way to walking.
At first, that felt like surrendering something. With time, I came to see it differently. Walking is not merely slower running. It changes what one notices. The distance may become shorter, but the landscape somehow becomes larger.
There is a season for speed and a season for taking one’s time. Autumn is not summer diminished; it has its own colours.
And as long as there are still a few miles left to walk, I intend to walk them.
—WJJH
✍️ Letter to the Prompt
Prompt,
This is a tender subject for me. At 76, my hips went on strike and informed me that my running days were over. At 81, I’m still negotiating with management, but alas—arthritis does not bargain. So I walk.
For nearly 30 years I ran faithfully: five times a week, 30 to 50 kilometers in total. My motto was simple: run fast enough to get there, but slow enough to see. I wasn’t the fastest, but I was steady, stubborn, and occasionally elegant—at least in my imagination. During Covid, running was my sanity.
Now my distances are humbler: 3 to 6 km most days, with a proud Sunday stretch of 7 to 10. For an old goat, that is not bad! Though truth be told, I sometimes envy the young gazelles sprinting by. (Don’t worry: I comfort myself by imagining their knees will one day squeak like mine.)
Even the music tells the story. Running was Queen, Meat Loaf, and Dire Straits. Walking is Vivaldi, Mozart, and Leonard Cohen—proof that the pace of life has slowed from rock ’n roll to chamber music.
So what’s the difference between then and now? Running gave me clarity and speed. Walking gives me time to notice the leaves, the light, and the fact that I’m still sitting at the table of life. Perhaps that’s the best finish line one can hope for.
Running or walking, the truth remains: health is wealth. And besides, walking is just running with better sightseeing.
September, 2025
📌 Blog Excerpt
At 76, my hips retired me from running. At 81, I walk instead—3 to 6 km most days, 7 to 10 on Sundays. Not bad for an old goat! I miss the thrill of running, but walking has its own perks: more time to admire the leaves, and a soundtrack that has slowed from Queen to Vivaldi. Arthritis may have won a battle, but as long as I’m still moving, I count myself lucky.
In what kind of world do we wish to live 