I have again set a commitment to continue walking, a pleasant activity I used to look forward to that I would reschedule anything that went in the way. Months ago, a physical discomfort and a doctor’s advice pushed walking out of my schedule. The result is added weight that now shows in my photos that I immediately delete.

I’ve always liked to walk, walk, walk, a slogan that plays in my mind inspired by a Leslie Sansone video that I, and a dozen former classmates from St. Scholastica’s followed during the pandemic nights. Then, I walked every night, sometimes close to midnight, when the house was still and no one could watch me convert a walk into a jog or an awkward dance.

Walking has long been my way of easing into reflection, of letting thoughts stretch and loosen the way muscles do after a long day.

During the pandemic, when the world seemed to shrink to the size of our living rooms, I walked with Leslie Sansone. Her “Walk With Leslie” videos inspired countless people to keep fit, lose weight, or manage the anxiety attacks that Covid stirred in so many of us. In those months of fear and uncertainty, walking became not just exercise but reassurance—proof that movement, however modest, was still possible.

Even before the pandemic, I walked with near-religious devotion, rain or shine, at the UP Diliman campus at least three times a week. At home, treadmills came and went—installed in my study room, bedroom, even the sala—each one offering a dependable “walking path” when rain or schedule made going outdoors impossible. Walking adjusted itself to my life, not the other way around.

When work and traffic stole the time I usually reserved for the gym, I walked around the Manila Bulletin building in Intramuros. That routine ended when street dogs began hovering along my route, often fighting among themselves. I decided I did not want to insert myself into their territorial disputes, however unintentionally heroic that might have sounded.

Why do I keep walking? The honest answer begins with self-image. I carry with me a persistent idea of myself as “fat”—or, in more clinical language, over my Body Mass Index, the commonly used measure that estimates body fat based on height and weight. Whether or not BMI tells the whole story, it has been a quiet motivator, nudging me to move, to choose activity over inertia.

But walking has rewards far beyond numbers on a scale. It strengthens the heart, improves circulation, helps regulate blood sugar, and supports joint health. It clears the mind, lowers stress, and improves sleep. Walking asks little—no special equipment, no membership fees, no complicated rules—yet it gives back generously. All it really requires is the willingness to begin.

The longest distance I have ever walked was 110 kilometers along the Camino de Santiago, from Sarria to Compostela de Santiago in Spain, two years ago. We completed it in six days, with proper rest and sleep. I have to admit that my first reason for choosing that pilgrimage was simple: I wanted to walk. As a walking route, the Camino was perfect—forest-lined paths, charming country cottages, stone houses, fruit trees, and a steady rhythm of uphill and downhill challenges.

As a religious pilgrimage, the Camino was something else entirely. Knowing that pilgrims had been walking the same path since the 10th century lent a sense of sanctity to every step. There was a quiet awareness of something larger than oneself—a feeling of divine presence along the road leading to the tomb of St. James the Apostle at the Basilica of Compostela de Santiago. Walking, in that context, became prayer in motion.

My walks have also taken me up mountains. In Mt. Pulag, I extended a five-hour afternoon walk long into the night, with my guide offering a hot cup of chocolate drink from his thermos to keep me going. In Mt. Ulap, which guide books said could be a day walk, I kept a barangay team of rescuers up till dark while waiting for me and my son Carlos to exit the trail exactly 12 hours after we started! I walk slow, so I told them when they kept calling to check how we were progressing in what the guide said was a 70-degree downhill descent.

I’ve hiked many mountains and I never complain when the going gets tough. To me, walking brings much joy, especially in the midst of nature. When friends my age ask why I still climb mountains, my answer is always the same: it’s only a long walk.

That, perhaps, is why I walk. Walking makes daunting things feel manageable. It breaks distance, fear, and even doubt into small, steady steps. On this first week of 2026, I choose to keep walking—not to arrive faster, but to arrive wiser, calmer, and more aware of the path beneath my feet. ([email protected])