SI Pain: 0/100 | Rib or Shoulder Pain: 0/100 | Concrete Back: 18/100
Today was a funny one.
I felt exhausted and drained, yet happy and emotional.
The AS (Ankylosing Spondylitis) was on an even keel, which was surprising given the weekend’s activities but somehow, I escaped unscathed.
Sticking to the diet, doing a lot of walking, and some yoga—and not forgetting the bed of nails—might have been my saving grace. Plus, spending time with my best friends always lifts me.
But when I had my work meeting this morning, I felt this overwhelming mix of exhaustion, sadness, and happiness all at once.
Yesterday was magical. I knew it would be good, but I didn’t know what to expect. The weather was terrible, my brain was scrambled and my emotions all over the place. There was so much swimming around my head.
But looking back, I think it was stupid of me to think it could have been anything but thrilling.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about Epicurean joy—the idea of things being ‘good enough’. You can spend money on an expensive meal in a restaurant full of strangers, and it might taste a bit better, but does that extra 1-2% justify spending 1,000% more? Not to me.
The real joy for me lies in curiosity, discovery, adventure, and the simple pleasure of walking. Especially walking somewhere new or with a close friend.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a truly bad walk. Even the more boring ones have something over sitting still. When you sit, expecting life to interest you, it rarely does. There are exceptions—like watching the sunset over mountains or waves crashing against the shore—but they’re rare. Walking brings a different kind of magic.
I remember when my partner was really ill in Zanzibar, sleeping for days and waking only to vomit or sip water. One morning, while she slept, I went outside and sat with a security guard, watching the pale pink sky emerge over the sea. It was magical. Part of me wished I was alone, but sharing it with someone who took it for granted had its own beauty.
The magic of a walk is everywhere, even traversing a city skyline. The TV can’t compete with the discoveries made on a walk.
Pubs have their own kind of magic too. The ritual, the people-watching, the stories. But there’s a limit to what you’ll learn when the drinks keep coming and the conversation starts to slur.
That’s why walking wins. It’s different every time, even if it’s a familiar route. The sky casts different shadows, the clouds shift into new shapes, and the world evolves around you.
I’ve curated a series of walks around where I live that bring me immense joy because of the ever-changing contrasts: strange structures popping up, marshland that looks prehistoric, and city skylines looming in the background. It’s breathtaking, constantly shifting with the seasons.
And it feeds my brain. Walking stimulates my mind and body in a way nothing else does. Armed with a notepad and a camera, I feel like I’m on the most magical journey. My thoughts are sharper, and my creativity flows.
Yesterday was special because I shared it with a friend who values these things as much as I do. We discovered new treasures together—like the bar at Cody Dock, which I’ve never seen open before. It felt like the universe was in sync.
We had a conversation about quantum mechanics with two strangers in high-vis jackets. It was one of those moments where everything just clicks, and the synchronicity of it all was surreal.
I’ve been running through these stories in my head all day, trying to make sense of how I feel. It’s been a rollercoaster weekend, with deep conversations and some soul-searching.
But the one constant is always the walk. The stories, the experiences—it’s what keeps me going, even when I feel fragile, like today.
I wanted to relive yesterday’s magic. It felt safe, comforting. Maybe that’s not the right thing to do, but I didn’t care. So I went back, retraced my steps, and found new treasures.
And while it was different, it was no less meaningful. The magic was still there.
There’s joy in revisiting the familiar. Sometimes, you just need to be reminded of the beauty that’s right in front of you. And that’s enough.
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