Why we take walks at night
Why we take walks at night
Thinking about being drawn to taking long walks at night wherever you are
Disclaimer: This is a personal one and feels strangely sentimental. I wouldn’t bother with it if you’re here from LinkedIn.
The nights have gotten cold and dark again. There’s something nostalgic about crisp evening air though. Maybe it’s the layers of thick clothes, or the sound of boots on crunching leaves, or the dew that hangs on the air after evening rain, but there’s something there that makes you think.
Last week I had a week of good conversation and interesting people and when I got back to Amsterdam on Sunday I had dinner with someone equally good and equally interesting and I walked home across the city at 01:00.
After travelling I’m always drawn to long walks, especially at night, and I’ve been thinking about why.
When a city slumbers but the mind races I can’t help but breathe deep into my belly and think about other nights I’ve walked through the night.
On Saundersfoot beach in Wales with an aching heart, or off a rugby pitch as a child, or walking out of a church masquerading as a dojo wearing someone else’s gloves because my hands had been too cold to train; in Exeter walking home from a night out, from campus, or from a friend’s house. In America, through a circus in the US, in Abu Dhabi, Edinburgh, Cuba, Toronto, Cape Town, New Orleans, New York, London, Bristol, Greece, Sicily, and I’m probably missing some.
Each time I breathe deep and I think about where I’ve been, and it’s the most peculiar feeling. I was there, and now I’m here, and the only thing that is the same is the open air.
I think we took evolution by surprise when we gained the ability to travel so easily. When I was walking along the canal I thought about the desert sand I’d walked in Abu Dhabi and the blizzard I insisted on running through in Canada, and I thought, how could I be here? How can I have been in such different places? I was there and now I’m here.
It’s peculiar because I feel a pride in myself but also like an imposter and also like it didn’t matter. Yes I was there, but I’m here now, so then what does it matter? If not for my memories of it no one would know, and when my memories are gone, no one will know. So what does it matter?
Except for the open air. Except for the night sky. You have surely been to lots of different places, but we’ve also all only been to one place. It’s the same air, it’s the same sky. Even if you’re in a different hemisphere it’s the same air and it’s the same sky, it’s just the other side.
When it’s night, it’s dark wherever you are, and the air is the same, so when it gets dark early and the air is crisp, I think about all the places I have been because they are all one place really. And instead I can take comfort and say, ah yes I was there, and I’m still there, because I’m still here.
- Rhys