The Transformative Power of Walking: Our 25 KM Journey to Self-Awareness

How a 25 km walk became more than just a physical challenge!

Yesterday, I embarked on a 25-kilometre walk—not only to achieve the distance but to explore something deeper, something intangible yet profound. As the kilometers stretched ahead of me, the journey transformed into an experience that taught me to face hard truths about myself and embrace the complexities of self-awareness. Walking, I’ve come to understand, is not merely a physical activity. it is a mirror reflecting both our strengths and vulnerabilities.

As a Fitness Coach the number one activity, I recommend people do when starting a new fitness program is walk. Why? Because it’s easy to do, you can do it anywhere and it costs nothing and walking whether its ten minutes or ten hours improves so many things like circulation, your mood and changes your perspective.

I love all forms of exercises, and for years I ran (or jogged is probably a more accurate description) and cycled, but nothing gave me the calm a thoughtful walk would.

So, after a challenging winter and many talks with my friend Rhonda, we decided to make a goal to walk 25km by July 1, 2025. We spoke the goal into existence and now the hard part was putting the plan into place and doing the “walking”.

One thing about me that is both helpful and sometimes harmful, is that I think about everything. I think about the conversations I’ve had and the ones I need to have. I analyse the way I taught a class; I try to decode a mood I’m in or a random statement someone makes.

As an over thinker, my mind often feels like an overcrowded room, every corner stacked with half-formed ideas, lingering doubts, and questions that echo endlessly. Overthinking is a relentless hum, a tide that pulls you away from the simplicity of the present moment. But walking—just the simple, rhythmic act of placing one foot in front of the other—has a way of sweeping that clutter away, as though the earth itself absorbs the noise of your mind with every step.

When I walk, especially in solitude, I find the spaces in my mind that overthinking once concealed. It’s as if the steady motion of my body creates currents of clarity, moving me closer to stillness. The questions that once pressed heavily on me begin to lose their urgency. The act of walking insists on a singular focus: the crunch of gravel underfoot, the crispness of the air, the way the sunlight filters through the trees. These details—small but vivid—call me back to myself. They remind me to listen, not to the constant chatter in my head, but to the world outside, to the wisdom of silence.

Walking is not just a physical journey; it is a spiritual one. It offers a gentle awakening, a chance to feel connected to something larger than myself—the earth, the sky, the rhythm of life itself. With every step, the noise within me softens, replaced by something deeper, something quieter yet profound: a sense of peace.

And so, this journey of walking, with its simplicity and grace, teaches me to let go. It whispers that clarity isn’t found by solving every problem or untangling every thought. Sometimes, it’s found by simply moving forward, one step at a time, until the path beneath your feet feels lighter, and so does your soul.

One time I ruminated about someone saying to me, “Wow, you really dove into the Pilates.” What the hell did that mean? Where they impressed with me or making fun of me? The point being, I’m in my head way more than I ought to be and walking has become my church, where I confess, release and absolve my spirit.

As a dog owner, my walking is a daily ritual. But I needed more. Especially as Leo, has gotten older and quite a bit slower. So, a goal of walking 25KMs gave me purpose and motivation to get in my own miles while at the same time getting to know a new friend or two and solving the problems of the world.

Facing the Hard Things

With each step, walking has a way of gently but persistently peeling back the layers of who we are. Yesterday's walk was no exception. As I moved through the miles and quiet paths of Thornbury, I was confronted by the parts of myself I often avoid—the doubts I carry, the fears I suppress, and the overthinking that sometimes feels like an endless loop in my mind. Walking didn’t erase these challenges; it illuminated them, asking me to confront them head-on.

There’s a quiet bravery in walking. It’s a slow, deliberate act that does not demand immediate answers or solutions but invites reflection instead. Yesterday, I learned that facing hard things isn’t about conquering them in a single moment; it’s about showing up, step after step, and giving yourself the grace to sit with discomfort until clarity begins to emerge.

The Emotional Landscape of the Walk

The 25-kilometer journey wasn’t just a test of endurance; it was an emotional odyssey, divided into distinct chapters that unfolded as the kilometers passed.

The Excited Beginning

Girls and gear in the truck at 4:45 AM. Our driver Paul a supportive hubby of Rhonda, calmly supporting us along the way. The excitement at the start was palpable—a burst of energy fueled by the anticipation of the journey ahead. My steps were light, my mind buoyant with enthusiasm and possibility. The early kilometers were filled with optimism, as if the path I walked held nothing but promise. It felt like a celebration: the crunch of gravel underfoot, the brisk morning air invigorating me with every breath. Oh, it didn’t hurt that we had Rhonda’s iconic play list and a happy sighting of a gas station after the first hour for a quick pee break and stretch.

The Calming Middle

As the kilometers went by, the initial rush of excitement gave way to a calm, meditative rhythm. My kids where there at the halfway point with food and water and hugs and well wishes. I was refueled by their presences. The pitstop at my former husband’s home, allowed us to listen to the call of nature and celebrate 13 KM being behind us! This was the heart of the walk, a space where time seemed to stretch and blur from the heat of the morning. My thoughts settled, and the world around me came into sharper focus—the rustle of leaves, the distant hum of life, the steady beat of my footsteps. Walking in this middle stage taught me to embrace simplicity and presence, to let go of the urgency to "get somewhere" and instead savor the act of simply being.

The Chaotic Slow-Burning End

But then came the final stretch—the chaotic, slow-burning end where every step felt like it carried the weight of the world. We all got a little quieter and more focused. My legs ached, my mind resisted, and doubts crept in. Paul had been riding his bike the whole time, to keep an eye on us, and I suddenly felt the urge to hop on his handlebars. It was a battle of willpower and determination, a moment where I was forced to reckon with the limits of my body and mind. Yet, somehow, this phase—the hardest of them all—felt the most transformative. Rhonda and Ami where marinating in the same discomfort and this gave me grace. It was a reminder that growth often lies in the discomfort, that the struggle itself is the birthplace of resilience and clarity.

The Magic of Walking and Self-Awareness

Together, these three stages—the beginning, the middle, and the end—formed the magic ingredient to self-awareness. Walking, with its ebb and flow of emotions, teaches us to honour every part of the journey. The excited beginning reminds us to embrace possibility; the calming middle invites us to find peace in presence; and the chaotic end challenges us to push through, revealing our inner strength.

Yesterday’s walk wasn’t just about conquering 25 kilometres—it was about discovering that no matter how much your body screams, “Stop this madness!” your brain will calmly reply, “One more step, or you’re sleeping on this gravel tonight.” Somewhere along the way, I questioned every life decision that had brought me to that sweltering stretch of road. My inner monologue turned into a stand-up comedy routine, complete with heckles: “Oh, sure, great idea, let’s walk 25 kilometres for fun!” By the last kilometre, I was dramatically wanting to collapse into streams on the side of the trails or beg Paul to tow me with his bicycle. Spoiler alert: he didn’t. Instead, we kept walking, proving that sheer stubbornness might just be the most powerful muscle in the human body.

Thanks to Rhonda and Ami for the motivation and encouragement!

Walking continues to be my teacher, my sanctuary, and my path to self-awareness. And as I let the experience of yesterday settle into the corners of my mind, I know it’s something I’ll carry with me, not just on the next walk, but in every step I take in this vast journey of life.

Finally, with friends, and loved ones supporting us in the moment and throughout the journey we can accomplish the hard things. To Rhonda and Ami, I’m so proud we had each other’s backs. My kids, Madison and Austin and Savanna, you did me proud riding up to us with snacks and a photo op. For the pit stop at Ian’s that was a blessing and my own at home support team James and Leo.