Mindful Miles

Movement. Joy. Reflection.

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  • Pacing the Playground Posse

    The walk home from school today started with a negotiation: “Mum,” my older daughter asked, all casual, “can we take our bikes to school sometimes?” Before I could answer, she quickly added, “Oh, you don’t need to answer now, just think about it!””

    Sure, honey! It’s fine if you want to take your bikes!” I replied.

    A flash image immediately popped into my mind: me, running at a full sprint to keep up, lungs burning, chasing two tiny cyclists all the way home. Panic! Then, a soothing wave: Oh, don’t fret, I told myself, that’s a problem for another day.

    With that small panic neatly shelved, I spent the next five minutes quietly studying our current three-person pace. It was a beautiful, chaotic mess.

    There was my older daughter, leading the charge with a perfectly steady, sensible stride. Then came my younger daughter, a restless soul who had clearly inherited my dad’s (and my own!) bouncy springs in her steps. She’d walk for a minute, then bolt for five, her feet barely kissing the ground. I thought, one day, she will fly!

    But today, she was on the ground—and right behind her sister. The result? Little Roti would constantly bump into the steady leader, and I, being a fellow spring-stepper, would inevitably bump into both of them. We looked less like a family walking and more like a poorly organized, bumping train.

    “Okay!” I finally blurted to my older daughter, halting the procession. “New plan. Roti, you take the lead! Then you follow, and I will give some space behind you both.”

    And just like that, the chaos vanished. The restless sprinter could bolt ahead, the steady walker could keep her rhythm, and I, the happy caboose, had a perfect view of my girls finding their flow. We were all comfortable, walking at our own natural pace.

    With a deep sigh of relief, I thought, That’s a problem for today, solved today.

    It was a simple, lovely reminder: whether in our walking path or our life path, sometimes the fastest way to peace isn’t forcing a single speed. It’s simply rearranging the order so everyone is free to move at the pace that feels most natural.

  • Three Jolly Frogs?

    My older daughter—the Chief Negotiator of the family—hit me with the question the moment we cleared the park gates: “Are we taking the shortcut today?”

    Normally, I crumble. I’m a sucker for efficiency, and the “express lane” wins every time. But on this particular day, the sun was sparkling, the air felt crisp, and I heard a rogue voice in my head say, “Nope. Long way, kids.”

    They sighed, I smiled, and off we went, resigned to the scenic route… until we hit a gold mine.

    It wasn’t a crackle. It wasn’t a crunch. It was a definitive, deeply satisfying, loud CRISP! My youngest had delivered a perfect stomp onto a piece of dried fruit. She actually stopped dead in her tracks. “Wow, Mum!” she yelled, wide-eyed. “That felt so satisfying!”

    The walk immediately transformed. The long way home was no longer a path—it was a full-sensory, acoustic adventure. We had accidentally become sound scientists on a secret mission.

    Our goal? To find the most ridiculously satisfying sounds our feet could make.

    Dry leaves gave a pathetic, whispery shhh. Walnuts delivered a sharp, violent POP! Miniature wrappers gave a delicate, shifty crinkle. Gravel provided a scratchy, rhythmic samba. We went from walking to hopping, prioritizing texture over speed. We tested rhythms: hop, hop, then a coordinated, glorious SQUISH!

    We were totally submerged, laughing hysterically, transforming a boring pavement into a chaotic, joyous percussion section. I know we looked completely ridiculous—three humans fully committed to embodying the playful, simple life of highly contented, noise-obsessed frogs.

    We spend so much time running for the shortcuts, optimizing our day to save three minutes, that we completely miss the random, free-of-charge joy waiting under our sneakers. That day, giving up a few minutes of efficiency gifted us a ridiculous, memorable game. The long way home is paved with squishes, pops, and the happy knowledge that the best fun happens when you stop planning and start hopping.

  • Reflections and Dreams

    The other day, out on my mindful miles with my friend Esther at Upton Park, we had a delightful encounter with a squirrel. Perched on a branch, this little chap was utterly engrossed in his lunch, holding a nut with such focused determination, like a tiny connoisseur savoring a gourmet meal. He even paused, mid-chew, to pose for us – a moment of pure, unscripted joy.

    But as I’ve carried that image with me through the week, that little squirrel started to tell me another story, a deeper one, about reflections and dreams.

    I imagine him there, perhaps at the close of his foraging day, curled up in his cosy nest. He’d reflect on his efforts: Did I find enough nuts? Were those good hiding spots? Did I outwit that cheeky magpie? Each successful find, each clever maneuver, builds his confidence for the next day. He’s not dwelling on the nut he almost dropped; he’s learning from it. He’s acknowledging his small victories and his near misses, harvesting the wisdom from his busy day.

    And as he drifts off, I bet he dreams. He dreams of the taste of juicy berries, of finding the perfect, plumpest nuts, of secret stashes overflowing with winter’s bounty. He dreams of his future needs, not with worry, but with a vivid, hopeful vision. He doesn’t wait for spring to plan; he dreams in the heart of autumn, letting his aspirations guide his tireless preparations.

    As we start a new week, just like our tiny tree-dweller, we too need both. We need the moments of reflection to see how far we’ve come, to acknowledge our own triumphs (big and small!), and to learn from the “nuts” we dropped along the way. That’s where we gather our strength and wisdom.

    And then, we need the quiet space for dreams. Not just vague wishes, but those clear, delicious visions of what we want to create, experience, or become. The dreams that light up our eyes and give purpose to our steps, just like the squirrel’s dream of a full larder fuels his daily search.

    So, this week, let’s be a little more like that nut aficionado. Let’s carve out time to reflect on our journey, celebrating our resilience. And then, let’s dare to dream vividly, letting those beautiful visions guide our next intentional steps.

  • Letting go: Light and Heavy

    The crisp air of autumn has settled around us, painting the world in breathtaking hues. As I’ve laced up my shoes for my mindful miles each day, I’ve found myself captivated by the sheer artistry beneath my feet. The earth becomes a mosaic of fallen leaves—every shade of brown, rust, and fiery orange, each one a whisper of the season’s gentle release. They drift down, light and effortless, a soft surrender to the breeze.

    But today, my path led me to a magnificent old acorn tree, and it offered a different, deeper kind of wisdom. This grand tree wasn’t just shedding its vibrant, weightless leaves. No, today it was letting go of its acorns too. I watched them fall, each one a sturdy, dense promise of a future forest, heavier than any single leaf. They dropped with a quiet thud, not a struggle, not a fight, but with the same serene acceptance as the lightest golden flutter. The tree wasn’t holding onto its heavy burdens any more than its light ones. It was releasing them all, making space.

    And in that simple, powerful sight, a profound truth settled in my heart, carried on the autumn air: Just like that wise old tree, we too are called to shed. Not just the “light burdens” that seem to fall away easily—the small worries, the fleeting frustrations. But also the heavy acorns that cling stubbornly to our souls: the deep-seated anxieties, the lingering regrets, the weight of expectations.

    This season isn’t just about endings; it’s a magnificent invitation to let go of it all, the light and the heavy. To trust in the rhythm of renewal. To release what no longer serves us, and with that beautiful, unburdened freedom, to step fully into the joy of new seasons and the fresh beginnings they promise.

  • A Triumph of Will: Super Charl Completes 100 days of Mindful Miles!

    In every streak, there are days of sunshine and days of pouring rain. There are moments of high energy, and moments when the sheer exhaustion of life makes the front door feel miles away. But for 100 consecutive days, our own Super Charl chose to face it all with her walking shoes on.

    Today, we pause to celebrate her monumental achievement: a 100-day walking streak! This milestone is far more than steps on a tracker; it’s a profound testament to the power of self-commitment. It represents 100 days of choosing clarity over chaos, 100 days of finding a steady, peaceful rhythm for her mind, and 100 days of building an unbreakable routine. She didn’t wait for motivation—she built discipline, one step at a time.

    Charl’s consistency has forged a lasting habit that will serve her for life. She has shown us all that the most heroic act we can perform is the simple act of showing up for ourselves, repeatedly, without fail.

    High-five for Super Charl! Over one million steps and every part of her 100-day victory has truly inspired me. ✨️

  • A Lesson in Presence (With a Side of Panic)

    The quietest moments on our walks have always been my favourite—the cool air, the silence of a new season taking over, the mushrooms appearing where yellow flowers used to be. It’s when you feel truly present.

    And then, just when you’re feeling at peace with the world, you find a spider so big that your daughters say it looks like a squid. And it’s not alone.The path ahead was a web-filled obstacle course, and our serene, reflective walk instantly turned into a high-stakes adventure. We didnt even wait to take pictures. Our mindful miles quickly turned into a fast-paced, very strategic retreat.

    We didn’t learn a lesson about stillness today; we learned about agility, teamwork, and about the shared hysterical escape from a very determined eight-legged presence. We learned that sometimes, the most important part of being present is knowing when to make a very fast U-turn.

    For me, the best part of the day was the shared, hysterical laughter. Today’s walk was a perfect reminder that life, just like a trail, is full of beautiful, unexpected turns—even the ones that send you running. 😊

  • A Smile Waiting in the Wild

    Some days, the world feels out of sync, and the morning had been one of them. So I took to my brisk evening walk not just for the cool air, but to find a rhythm again, to reconnect with something solid.

    My gaze, fixed on the path ahead, was drawn to a patch of grass. I’d seen mushrooms before, a fleeting detail on other walks, but tonight, they held my attention. As I stopped, a sense of quiet reverence came over me.

    Arranged in a perfect, crescent arc, a shape that instantly brought two of my favorite things to mind: the moon, a quiet guardian of my late-night wanderings. And in that same humble curve, I saw a smile—a universal language of reassurance.

    It was a moment that felt like a quiet dialogue with the world itself. The mushrooms, in their silent, beautiful formation, felt less like a coincidence. They were a profound reminder that even when things feel disjointed, there is a fundamental order, a natural kindness waiting to be seen. They weren’t just saying “chin up”; they were telling me to remember the small joys that sit pretty in the world.

  • The Ready Position

    Alright, let’s get to the good part! That moment just before the shot—when the goal is in sight, the path is clear, and the world seems to hold its breath. This isn’t about the power of the kick or the speed of the run; it’s about that awesome pause right before you spring into action—the ready position. It’s where you find your inner superpower and the belief that you’re about to win!

    This is the very essence of Mindful Miles. Our goal isn’t just a number on a tracker. It’s about finding that peace, that clarity, and the quiet strength we build with every step. The path is our personal playground, and it’s a journey that asks us to get into a ready position for every single mile. It’s the moment you lace up, hit play on your favorite playlist, and bounce out the door!

    So as we head into the weekend, let’s play. Find your goals, get into your ready position, and believe in the fun of that first step.

    The week may be over, but your journey has just begun!

  • Losing the Sun’s Warmth

    The sun has set on summer, and with it, the easy warmth that made every walk feel effortless. The days seem shorter now, the light fading faster, and there’s a definite craving for hot chocolate, a cozy duvet, and a lovely read or watch. It’s so easy to let the allure of indoors win.

    When I go on walks now, especially in the evenings, my pace is noticeably faster. It’s a race against the dipping temperature, my body longing for the warmth of home. Some days, it takes a serious dose of resolve to get out the door, especially when the rain is coming down.

    But I keep myself in check. I look at my activity log daily, weekly, and monthly, and so far, it’s a testament to the commitment I made. When I first started this journey with Mindful Miles, the sun was bright, and the days were long. It was the easy season. Now, I’m realizing that the true test of this commitment isn’t in the summer; it’s now, in the autumn, as I prepare for the deep cold of winter.

    This has taught me a powerful lesson: the most meaningful progress isn’t made when conditions are perfect, but when you stick with your goals despite the challenges. We can truly achieve anything we set our minds to, but it requires a commitment that holds true in all seasons.

    I’m in this for the long run, and I keep reminding myself of that every time I put on my shoes and step outside. I hope this holds true for you too, no matter what journey you’re on.

  • A Little Reminder for Your Journey

    There are times when the miles we walk are not just a physical journey but a pilgrimage through our own internal landscape. In a season of personal challenge, my feet have known this truth intimately. Every step was a choice to move through a draining quiet, a silent resolve to push back against the weight that had settled in my mind.

    In these moments, music wasn’t just a faithful companion; it was the steady rhythm of resilience. The act of placing one foot in front of the other became a form of meditation, a way to untangle the knotted threads of thought.

    Then, I remembered a beautiful thing. Three days in a row, a rainbow arched across the sky, a promise of beauty. I resolved to hold on to that thought, that belief, and that hope. If I’ve learned anything from the weather, it is that gray skies always clear, eventually.

    I’ve learned that the struggles we face are not a sign to halt our journey. They are simply part of the natural cycle of a life fully lived. The gray skies are a testament to the storm, but the clarity that follows is a testament to our strength.

    So if you find yourself enshrouded in some gray, don’t let it call a halt. Keep moving, not just to outrun the gray, but to discover the deeper beauty that emerges after the clouds clear. You will find your blue skies again, and they will be more vibrant for having known the rain.