Have you seen the TikTok trend where people video themselves outside, stomping along, and grouchily saying, “Going for a STUPID walk for my STUPID mental health”. Sounds like a STUPID trend, I know, but I find it pretty funny.
The joke works because we’ve collectively come to recognize the boost our mental health gets from a daily walk. Mental health experts have been trying to convince us of this for years, and they’ve finally gained some traction. But as the tiktok-ers imply, we don’t always like it.
Personally, I find that I have to pry myself off the couch to go for that daily walk. It’s all Isaac Newton’s fault. His First Law of Motion states that a body at rest will remain at rest unless an outside force acts on it. Since I’m an adult without any small children, and I work at home, there aren’t many forces that act on my resting body each day. I spend hours tapping away at my keyboard for work, and then I spend more hours tapping away at my phone for recreation. In both cases, the couch is my constant companion.
But each afternoon, I pry myself off the couch and go for the STUPID walk, because I do have three forces that regularly act on my resting body, and their names are Princess Buttercup, Paco and Cricket.
Princess Buttercup and Paco are fair-weather walkers, and if it’s raining, snowing, windy, muddy or cold when they step outside, they’re ready to go back to the couch pretty much immediately. But not Cricket. She’s got lots of long fur to keep her warm, plus the boundless supply of energy that goes with being a young, healthy dog. If it weren’t for her, I’d let the other two convince me to go back to the couch to wait for Spring.
But I know that if I don’t get Cricket out, she’ll take all that energy out on me over the course of the night. She’ll bring every toy she owns to me, one at a time, and drop them at my feet until I stop what I’m doing to play tug-o-war. Then she’ll bring the balls, also one at a time, and get right up in my face until I stop what I’m doing and throw them for her. Then she’ll do zoomies around the house, working the other two dogs into a frenzy, until I stop what I’m doing to control the chaos. So yeah, taking her for a walk is a small price to pay for a little peace and quiet.
And, as much as I hate to admit it, that daily walk really is good for my mental health.
Take today, for example. It was a perfect weather day, or at least as perfect as it gets in January in New England. 40 degrees and bright sunshine with no wind and clear roads. Bundled in my Carhartt hoody, down jacket, wool hat, hiking boots and fleece gloves, I find the outside temperature is just about right. The sun beats down on my back, and within a few minutes, I nudge the jacket zipper down just a bit. The neighborhood is quiet, with a light layer of snow covering the lawns, a smooth, homogenous effect, each yard blending with the next.
I follow the three leashes around the corner, noting the three tails held high, the six ears pivoting to each noise, the three noses taking it all in.
A term pops into my head as I walk.
Mood juice.
I laugh as I think of it. It’s a silly term, but oh, so fitting. This day, this walk, this moment – they are juices that are filling my tank. I wasn’t in a bad mood when I left, but I wasn’t in a good mood either. Just neutral. Now, though, I have a mental image of a line graph of my mood, rising sharply with each step. That’s the type of geek I am – I intuitively think about data in terms of graphs and charts. I realize that the data of my moods would make a fascinating subject of an Excel sheet, with associated visual representations. Such. A. Geek.
We make a lap of the neighborhood, and then drop the two senior dogs back at the house for a well-deserved nap, while Cricket and I continue down the street. We pick up a trail in the woods, and I let her stop to sniff as long as she wants, because that’s her mood juice.
Eventually I get tired of waiting for her to finish sniffing, so I put a light pressure on the leash. She immediately turns to me, and I know we’re both ready to go home.
By the time we get back, my nose is running, my torso is sweaty, my toes are cold, and it’s all OK. No complaints, for once. My grumbling belly tells me its lunch time, and walking into a warm house with a stocked fridge is absolute contentment. My mood tank is full, making me feel like I can accomplish all the things this afternoon. Housekeeping, home improvement, crafts – it’s all possible right now.
It won’t last. This time of year, the cold and dark set in early. But I’ve got plenty of mood in the tank to get me through until it’s time for tomorrow’s STUPID walk for my STUPID mental health. Which I will take. Because it turns out, it’s not so stupid after all.
Kimba
About the Author
Kimberlee Martin is a free-lance writer with a background in software development. In addition to the miscellaneous musings she posts here, she writes a technical blog on Microsoft Access and Excel at www.northportsolutionsllc.com.
© Kimberlee Martin, 2023. All rights reserved.
Nailed it