I’m someone who needs to exercise daily – not just for my bones, muscles, and ligaments – but for my mental health, too. If I don’t move, I become a cranky mess with a bad attitude and a grim outlook on life. I’m not sure if it’s the blood circulating through my body, the sweat pouring out of my skin, or the fatigued muscles that perform the magic I need, but I know I feel terrible when I don’t move.

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You can imagine how challenging it was for me to find ways to motivate myself during the pandemic when gyms shut down and people were forced to become couch potatoes at home. It was incredibly detrimental to me. I didn’t feel motivated to work out at home alone. I suppose having a community to share in the sweat and suffering was part of the secret sauce that made me feel better.

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Without my regular classes at the YMCA, I put on my sneakers for a daily walk around Newcastle, seeking a small adventure. At first, it was kind of a mystery where I should go. I enjoyed driving to the closed Y and hiking down the familiar Red Town Trail that led to the waterfall. But even that became disallowed by the government. No driving to exercise, how ridiculous!

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So, I started to explore the sidewalks and trails near my home. Most of them weren’t long enough or strenuous enough for what my body craved. Twenty minutes here, twenty minutes there – it quickly became monotonous. Finally, I followed the concrete staircase across the street from my home. It went up and up towards the elementary school. I followed it through a meadow beyond and continued my ascent. I paused to catch my breath and take in the blue skies. I wondered where the trail would lead if I continued to explore.  

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I discovered a winding staircase with a handrail that meandered back and forth as a switchback and decided to follow it. Down it went. I wondered how I hadn’t explored this way before. I continued and found a little boardwalk that expanded across a boggy wetland. The water was dark, and there were a few pieces of trash and an orange bobbing along the surface. A mother Mallard duck with her three babies glided by, and I just stood to observe the beauty of nature alone.

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I followed the trail as it looped around and opened up into a neighborhood. I wasn’t sure where I was exactly, but the sun was shining and I wasn’t in a hurry, so I continued on my way. I wandered down a quiet paved street and came to a park that I recognized. Aha! A clue to orient myself. I knew from this point that if I continued down the street, I’d end up at the main street and could follow that home.

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Instead, I decided to turn around and follow the trail home. Back toward the woodland, I went. The ducks had gone, but the trash remained. I spotted a painted rock in a tree, and then another adjacent to the boardwalk. I smiled and took pictures because my family and I enjoyed painting and hiding rocks ourselves. It was a fun way to pass the time and decorate our small town.

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I looked up the hillside at the switchback trail. Up I climbed, huffing and puffing along the way. I got to the top and followed the trail back toward the school. I walked along the fence and took a moment to catch my breath. I was glad for the sunny weather, the stillness, and the quiet that allowed me to take my time as I approached the concrete staircase that led home.

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Sometimes the fear of getting lost can hold us back from new experiences. But on that day, knowing how to find my way home, I was free to wander and explore new trails at a time when walking in my neighborhood was the only option. The small adventure reminded me that I didn’t have to know exactly where I was going to find something worthwhile — movement was the only medicine I needed.