Finding My Inner Child On a Walk
Reinventing "me-time" as a side quest.
My husband, ever the natural, has always been good at this — lucky him. He approaches life effortlessly and confidently, instinctively knowing how things should be rather than forcing them into place.
Reyce rarely joins me on my walks, but I don't mind. Walks are my sanctuary — the perfect "me time." It's my chance to dive into guilty-pleasure music or podcasts, wandering at my own pace through sunset-soaked streets. I feel like the protagonist in a coming-of-age film, wearing my cute exercise dress and embracing my hot-girl-walk on a whole new level.
But truth be told, I secretly love it when he comes along. He's an ecological enthusiast with a scout's flair, passionate about all things exploration. He'll famously forgo the shorter route of road trip in favor of adventure, pursuing an 11,700-year-old King Creosote Bush and eager to share tales of overlooked roadside attractions from his hours of research the night before. Family trips and weekends with friends are always a hoot. While others hunt for the best bars in a new city, he seeks out unique landscapes at the local botanical gardens. I laugh and lovingly call him a nerd, but it's one of my favorite things about him — something I find irresistibly sexy. He loves to learn, study, and uncover the characteristics of a place everyone else is too busy to notice.
Honestly, when I travel with him, I'm confronted by the narrow corridors of my own wanderings.
As I've gotten older, I've traced the map too faithfully, adhering to sidewalks as boundaries rather than suggestions. Like skimming the synopsis of a novel, I'm missing the bigger picture.
Time To Change Things Up
Cultural brain rot is as addictive as nicotine that slowly corrodes your gums: delicious, euphoric, and so damn comforting to come back to. Yet, over time, its enticing flavor turns stale and eventually rotten. Like any indulgence, it demands moderation — or better yet, should be reserved as an occasional treat.
Since becoming a mom, my day-to-day life has been beautifully boring, pressing me to pursue a pick-me-up outside my regular routine.
Sometimes, even our passions need a refresh....
So, the other month, I decided to turn my morning walks into something more.
Instead of embodying my usual Andie Anderson persona by listening to podcasts in my cute Lululemon hat, I donned khakis and brought along my metaphorical field journal.
I trekked through the paths of my local Riparian Preserve — a fabulous multi-acre oasis behind our local library boasting lakes, wetlands, and native wildlife. I frequent it early on weekend mornings while my daughter and husband still sleep. Still, I was determined to make this particular day different.
The objective was simple: find something new. I started on my usual route before taking a turn I'd never made — into a strange, open plain cracked with dry creek beds that seemed to map out untold stories. Overhead, egrets soared gracefully, and brown lizards darted near my toes. I ventured onto the open dirt field, the farthest I'd ever strayed from the riparian path. It felt like I'd been transported to another world, where the cries of babies and the barks of nearby dogs were entirely muffled — a silent, open expanse in the middle of the city.
I eventually reached the far end of the field, where two massive native velvet mesquite trees stood like ancient sentinels. Beneath their sprawling branches lay thousands of dry seed pods — perfect for grinding into bread flour for my next dinner party. I gathered a handful, stuffing them into my pockets while listening to the coos and calls of river birds searching for an afternoon snack. "The Learned Man" played softly in the background as I watched the sun creep over the leaf tips of towering cottonwoods.
Just me, the trees, and the wind. Tomorrow's worries were a sunset away.
I’ve started taking this approach to all my walks now.
Last week, I woke up early in Charleston, armed with a 35mm point-and-shoot camera, wandering the quiet streets in search of a strong Americano and fresh flowers for a friend. A few days later, up in Big Bear Lake, I pocketed tiny pinecones to return to my daughter before she awoke. And just yesterday, I snapped photos of an old, abandoned house by a nearby canal, soaking up some of that eerie Halloween spirit.
It’s wild how much you notice when you really start looking...
How can I turn this simple hour away from home into something more? How can those 10,000 steps become a small adventure rather than another task to check off?
I take my camera for a photo walk.
I stroll to a new coffee shop I haven't been to yet.
I pick up tree pod seeds for Reyce as my token of success.
I count how many birds I see (too many).
I pet the dogs that pass by (never enough).
I even listen to a new song I haven't heard before or shuffle new music from my Discover Weekly playlist like it's the radio.
The next time you wander in a new city or just stroll around your neighborhood, make it a quest. Be ten years old again, break your routine, and try something different. And capture it — not just to prove you did it, but because it’s fun to reflect on the moment and relive it.
