My Evening Walk Makes Me Cry
On a daily practice of discomfort.
Happy New Year everyone! The holidays can feel like such a sprint, so I hope you’ve had a restful start to the year and been able to ease into things – or at least slack off at work undetected. I’ve been a very sleepy gal this week – it is Dormant Girl Winter after all – but I’ve enjoyed the slow transition from one year to the next (yet another reason I love not setting New Year’s resolutions!)
OK! Now let’s talk about crying!
All the Baddies Cry on Their Hot Girl Walks
Late last September, I decided to add a post-dinner walk to my nightly routine. By then, I’ve usually hit my step goal (shout out to living in a walkable city!), but I was starting to chafe at the hours of recreational sitting that ended my days, which are already dominated by many hours of vocational sitting. Back then, when the last vestiges of summer were still in the air, it felt like a reward to finish off the last task on my to-do list then head to my local park to stretch my legs. Now that it’s cold outside, and the sun bounces for the day at 5pm, the ritual feels more like an act of self-flagellation. Just the thought of having to suit up to brave the cold (my layering process is quite extensive – I’m African, built for sun, sand, and Goya malta), is enough to bring tears to my eyes in despair (I’m only barely exaggerating).
I’ve pushed through this feeling enough to learn it only lasts until I’ve gotten myself out the door. After maybe ten minutes of putting one foot in front of the other, the simple act of moving my body and exposure to fresh-ish air is enough to remind me that life is a gift and worth living after all (🙄). Everyday, I am reminded: all I have to do is get out of my head and move. This is what I’ve learned from what I’ve been calling a daily practice of discomfort. I try to do at least two things a day that are mildly distressing but ultimately manageable – one physical, one mental – but life, with all its infinite gifts, is often gracious enough to serve up more than that on a regular basis. The goal is to remind myself of all the corny platitudes that are actually true, though that doesn’t make accepting them any easier. Things like: getting out of your comfort zone is the key to growth, whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and, nine times out of ten, it truly is just not that deep. Annoying, I know! Especially because my instinct is to ignore anything you might see printed on a canvas at your local Marshalls.
But they’re right. When we have a daily practice of discomfort, we are working the muscle of resilience, building up our mental fortitude. Daily we are forced to ask ourselves: yeah, this sucks…but did you die? It’s like anything else, really. The same way the track star runs their event a million times before the big race; the same way an actor rehearses constantly so they’re prepared for opening night, we too learn to handle adversity by willingly microdosing discomfort.
For me, this has meant getting back to the gym on a consistent basis (this is the year the stairmaster bends to my will, by force or by fire) and for the mental side of things, my trials vary. Ironically, the evening walk remains a mental hurdle. Even though I know how I’ll feel once I start moving, I still try to talk myself out of it most nights, so it’s more of an exercise of making sure I do exactly what I said I’m going to do and strengthening the trust I have with myself as a result. (Those of you who have been here from the very beginning will recall this is one of the keys to overcoming Blair Waldorf Syndrome).
In some instances, I’m able to combine the two, like earlier today, when I took out my tripod at the gym to film my version of “lifestyle content” and drew attention to the existence of my corporeal form, an act I largely find excruciating. But it has not killed me (yet.) And so the fear of being seen dissipates even further, so I will be ready to shake my ass in a thong on a yacht by summertime, Inshallah. Ultimately, it always comes down to this: the thinking is harder than the doing, which is why I remain a card-carrying member of team no thoughts, just vibes. So this is a reminder to simply get out of your head and move instead of spinning your wheels, wondering if you’re ready. It doesn’t get easier, but you will get better.
Have a great Sunday everybody! At time of writing I am incapacitated, having had a single glass of red wine with a full meal (the joys of aging!) and there’s snow on the horizon in New York, so I will napping, doing puzzles, and consuming hot beverages for the rest of the day, because that’s what this time of year is for, resolutions be damned.
Wishing you all the coziness in the world,
Lola xx
this is the second substack i read today w that sentiment of building self trust, thx for another sign <3