26 Nov BLOG: “Walking was my meditation, my way of coping [with lockdown]” – 26/11/20 Madelaine

During the initial lock down of March and April I walked and walked through the city streets, round, over, through Arthur’ Seat and Holyrood park and along the miles and miles of old tow paths that secretly criss cross Edinburgh. Admittedly sometimes only because I was too scared to stay still. Walking was an easier way to manage feelings of fear, loss and bewilderment and the emotional fall out caused Covid 19 which left no aspect of life untouched. Too unfocused to learn a new a language or to make a sourdough mother from scratch or work my way through a list of classic novels, feeling claustrophobic and unsettled at home, I just kept walking. Walking was my mediation, my way of coping, the rhythmical pattern of movement soothing my mind. And I always felt better for it, even if it just made me hungry enough to eat a proper meal and tired enough to sit and focus on a TV show for an hour.

Living on my own, which under normal circumstances I cherish, was tough during lockdown. A lockdown which coincided with the ending a relationship and an abrupt and traumatic return to Edinburgh, flying half way across the world to land just two days before lock down began, a life long dream of travelling cut short after only two months. Struggling with feelings of envy and resentment, scrolling Facebook posts of seemingly happy families and laughing flatmates lounging in pyjamas, I was isolated and alone and imagining everyone else to be coping better than I was, some even professing to enjoy lockdown. I would try to remind myself that social media only portrays manufactured and filtered truths but those images still made me feel a lockdown failure for not “making the most of it” or not having someone to share this “blessed time with”.

Even the knowledge that many were suffering from being forced into sharing their space with people they would not have chosen to and knowing the stress and emotional fall out that this was causing didn’t stop me from feeling those really uneasy feelings of jealousy and self pity. My coping mechanism was walking. The weather was beautiful during those weeks, the sun almost always shining, nature seeming brighter and noisier than usual. When walking perspective was gained, reality checked and equilibrium restored.

Walking to the shops you could sometimes happen to bump into a friend, a chance to commune with someone close face to face rather than through a glitchy, stilted zoom call. A chance for a chat in the time it takes to walk round the block, to check in on each other, to remind ourselves we were still connected. To be restored by human contact, although the aching new normal of saying goodbye without a hug leaving an almost physical impression.

At times it felt unnervingly eerie to see the main thorough fares of the capital city void of all the usual throng of life it but it was also an incredible opportunity to walk through the deserted streets , peek in at lives unimaginable through the huge windows of the Georgian Mansions in the New Town, see the detail in the cobbled streets and ancient buildings of the old town normally obscured by thousands of tourists and explore the derelict urban areas of the Granton and beyond.

I felt lucky to live in Edinburgh, a city with fingers of countryside protruding into its streets, with seven hills and many parks, all the benefits of walking in nature available within our permitted radius. Daily noticing more places where nature was taking back its territory as we humans retreated.

Then came being allowed to meet with friends and permission to travel further, a day in the Pentland Hills, Edinburgh’s Highlands in microcosm, was possible. Being able to leave the city, walk in the hills, spend time with friends and have conversations which weren’t about covid was truly restorative. I was training to do the West Highland Way and friends would join me for long distance walks of twenty miles or so and we could celebrate with a meal and a drink in a restaurant. Feeling jubilant and triumphant with our achievement, a new way for quality time spent and a taste of our old lives. The rest of Scotland opened up and there were wonderful days in the mountains. Once up the hills there’s no need for masks or sanitisers or one way systems or booking apps, just fresh air and freedom and a chance to forget. A much needed respite from the PPE ruled world at work in the hospital, every interaction undertaken through the barrier of a disposable facemask and scrubbed away with alcohol. Everybody seemed so happy on the hills. During one walk on Meyer and Dreish in mid August the heather out in full force, showing off its purple splendidness, my walking buddy and I realised we’d never usually see this exceptional show of Scottishness, never normally leaving the city during the Edinburgh Fringe which takes over the whole month of August.

In September I walked the West Highland Way 96 miles from Glasgow to Fort William over five days. I walked it on my own but this was a different being way of being alone to the that of lockdown, this was alone but not lonely this was independence, freedom, confidence, pure exhilarating freedom. A digital detox and a much needed break from the news. At around twenty miles a day my body was tired in the evenings but a wonderful physical tiredness rather than the dragging covid fatigue and mental exhaustion we’d all been carrying. This was a tiredness that was well served by a hearty meal cooked by someone else, a full eight hours sleep, the knowledge that I had only myself to please and only the simple tasks of getting to A-B under my own steam. It was the best thing I could have done and an experience I will never forget. On the last day I dropped my pace considerably, walking slowly, taking time to talk to people I met on the way, stopping for rests, taking photos, dragging my feet. Knowing that when I got to the end, that would be it – back to the real word. I didnt want to stop, if I had the time I would have walked back to Glasgow.

I stopped to pause and take a selfie not long after I had climbed up and over the Devil’s Staircase on the second last day of the walk. Knowing it was coming to an end, wanting to record the moment as well as the breathtaking scenery. Pausing to deliberately take note of how happy, strong, resilient and free I felt. To make a deliberate note to self to remember whenever I felt down or overwhelmed or scared to just open the door and go for a walk.

Fun was had in Fort William that evening, celebrating with fellow walkers. The morning I left was one of the most beautiful days I’ve ever seen in the Highlands but getting on the bus back to Glasgow was easier than it might have been knowing that in a couple of weeks I’d be moving for a new job in Oban and all this would be on my doorstep, a whole new world to explore.

My first walk after I moved was to Ben Nevis, the last very beautiful day of October, almost ethereal at the top. We had came over the Carn Mor Deag so didn’t see the crowds until we reached the top but what a sight! There were so many people, all appropriately socially distanced and all having the time of their lives, warm enough to hang out, sit down and spend some time on the summit it was almost a carnival atmosphere. Physically and mentally as far away from our daily lives as possible. On top of the world. If the experience of lock down has encouraged more people onto the hills then that has to be a good thing. More people on the hills, more healthier, happier people and a better world to live in.