Published on 12, July, 2020
At around 4am on Saturday morning, a very dark, overcast, and rather drizzly night, I was approximately here (link to Bing Maps); somewhere near the "X" formed where the zig-zaggy footpaths cross that descend the steep valley side. I was somewhat wobbly from several bottles of my favourite ales. I don't always walk home this way from my regular Friday night trip to hang out with my little crew of friends at one of their houses, but the time, location, and inebriation are pretty representative of what I would consider a perfectly normal 3-4 mile walk home. The other walking options are similarly cross-country, or involve long stretches of road with no pedestrian footpath. Very heavy rain or snow might make me think twice, but don't normally put me off. On particularly beautiful nights, I have even had an unplanned snooze after sitting down to admire the stars or the dawn-chorus.
My usual trip to the supermarket is somewhat shorter, but similar; there are stretches of road with no pedestrian pavement, and they involve crossing countryside on muddy, unpaved public footpaths, carrying as many supplied as I can on my back.
The commute to my last place of work took in a two and half mile walk along an old railway line (you can see this on the linked map if you switch to Ordinance Survey view), and a 400ft climb to the top of a very exposed hill (over 1000 ft at the summit). That was just to get the bus to Halifax, after which I walked another mile or so to the office. I did this in both directions every work day, in the dark in winter, and in all weathers. I even astonished the boss when I turned up having battled through waist deep snowdrifts; of course, most of my colleagues who lived in Halifax itself had phoned in to say they couldn't make it!
So what's my point? That I'm super-fit and smug that I'm so much hardier than everyone else? Hmm, I'm certainly not all that fit, just very stubborn. There is a certain pride I take in it, but I recognise it as being a rather perverse and masochistic kind of pride. So here are my main reasons why I do this (some might say post-hoc rationalisations, and I would not disagree.)
Reactions to this "lifestyle choice" from friends are very varied. The friends that I visit at our Friday night gatherings don't bat an eyelid, and some of them have quite similar habits (at least a couple of them are almost certainly also autistic; the others don't lead particularly "conventional" lifestyles, either). Other friends react with complete horror, and implore me not to take the risks which they perceive I'm taking. I have only realised very recently that my reaction to their concerns probably seems flippant and ungrateful; but I know what the risks are (years of hiking, caving, etc.), and I accept them as a reasonable compromise so that I can work, shop, and socialise. In the decades that I've lived this way, I have never come to serious physical harm, have never been in trouble with law enforcement (I stick to footpaths and never trespass), and the only time I've been mugged or attacked was in broad daylight in a city-centre park. The fact that I will almost certainly not be able to continue like this as I get older frightens the hell out of me, quite frankly.
So I thought I would throw this open to comments from people here. There are no right answers, and I'm not looking for pity. I've just realised how little I question it and how much I've underestimated how bizarre it can seem to other people. What does anyone think? Am I completely crazy to do this? Are my justifications just perverse rationalisations? Do you do these things too?
Oh, and I forgot to say I'd rather get into trouble than ask for help. I loathe asking for help.
And if I do I feel indebted to that other person for ever.
Blank said:I'd rather get soaking wet and cold to the bone from walking
I'm well known for it too. Even if I'm just out for a recreational walk, really inclement weather won't put me off, if walking is what I'm in the mood to do. It's not even as if I'm particularly well kitted out; my normal dress is somewhat outdoorsy but I've never spent hundreds of pounds on high-performance hiking gear, and I wear whatever footwear is comfortable on my feet and stops them from overheating, even if it means getting my socks and feet wet. I get some odd looks sometimes from groups of expensively kitted-up hikers when they see me coming past in my cheap overcoat from the market and favourite comfy footwear (I very rarely feel truly at home in a pair of shoes until they're beginning to fall apart! The constant talking to myself under my breath probably doesn't help much, either!)
I understand what you mean by burning energy off; and anxiety too. I'm not as routine as you with when I walk, but very much so with where I walk. I will go for an exploratory ramble quite often, but if I'm walking to burn off energy and anxiety, I tend to have a small selection of very rigid routes that I take. They can become so ingrained that if there's been something eating at my mind, I can get home with no memory of the walk itself, nor even which one I did. My late night walks home can be a bit like that; some kind of "autopilot" kicks in, and my conscious awareness doesn't seem to register it unless something's obviously out of place. It took me quite a while to feel comfortable with the local walks when I moved to a new area a year or so ago, even though I have no problem with map-reading or sense of direction (well, unless I'm experiencing sensory overload, in which case I don't know my *** from my elbow!)
Blank said:
Yes, the same. To tell the truth, this is a deeper problem than anything to do with the walking; even if I overcame this, I'd probably still walk a lot, just by preference. The weird thing is, I'll happily do anything for anyone else (so long as they make it clear what they want, of course), But I feel compelled to try to meet my own needs as independently as possible, and the struggle to ask brings anxiety of its own, whether it's a friend, relative, doctor, or just the supermarket delivery man. It can be so paradoxical too; for want of asking for a few simple favours, which I'd gladly return, crises happen which end up requiring far more help, or help which is far more invasive (if you can get it, of course!)