Mindful Miles

Movement. Joy. Reflection.

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  • A Ryhme for Every Mile

    The school bells are ringing, a new song they sing, and oh, what a welcome relief they now bring! For during our holidays, my two little ladies were glued to their screens, like tech-savvy babies. Our walks were a challenge, a fight, and a plea,

    With questions a trio, aimed directly at me:”Where to? Is it far? And what can we buy?” Which often meant walks were a no-go, or why try?

    I remember one time, we started our trek, just five minutes in, a small plea from a speck: “Mum, can we get drinks and snacks?” so we stopped at the store.

    Ten minutes later, as we walked past another store, she saw something more —A unicorn, stuffed, with eyes big and bright, And so it joined us, a magical sight.

    Then barely five minutes later, with a mischievous gleam, she asked, “Mum, can we go to KFC?” and shattered my dream.

    That’s how my walk turned, in less than half an hour, From a hike through the streets to a trip with sweet power. We were loaded with drinks, snacks, a stuffed unicorn and a belly so full we could hardly move.

    I realized those miles weren’t just walks, you see, they were shopping sprees on a mission for free. But now that the school books are back on the shelves, we’re getting our miles for our health, and ourselves.

    The walks to the bus stop, a daily routine, or home from the school, a more leisurely scene. And my very favorite, the best of the bunch, is the park after school—where they run, leap, and munch on sunlight and freedom, with no screens in sight, just pure, unadulterated, wholesome delight!

  • When Hope Arrives on Schedule

    I saw a rainbow on my way home from work yesterday. A quiet, colorful promise after the rain. I smiled, took a photo, and held onto that moment of peace.

    Then, today, as I was heading home from work, it happened again. The sky opened up and a rainbow painted the horizon just for me. It felt less like a coincidence and more like a cosmic wink.

    A single rainbow is a sign of beauty after the storm, a flicker of hope. But two, appearing on back-to-back days, felt like a powerful message. It was a reminder that hope isn’t a one-time, fleeting miracle. It is a promise that is consistently kept.

    Maybe the universe is telling us that the good things we are waiting for are not just coming, but are already on their way, on a schedule we cannot yet see. That after a day of hard work and weary miles, there is always beauty waiting for you.

    So, if you’re waiting for a sign, let this be it. The colors are already out there, waiting for you to look up. The best is yet to come, and it’s right on time.

  • The Last Mile of August

    The final day of August arrived not with a whisper of sun, but with the steady drumming of rain. Lately, I’ve felt the pull to slow down, to post less, and to simply exist at a gentler pace. Today was a perfect day for it.

    My soul pleaded for a warm mug and the sanctuary of a duvet. I was ready to let the world outside pass me by and the list of obligations wait until the sun decided to show up again. Yet, my feet had a different idea. They knew the walk had to be done, not as a chore, but as a commitment.

    And for this, August has gifted me a small, digital medal. A badge earned not for distance, but for consistency. It’s the physical proof of a quiet victory—of a promise made and kept to myself every single day. Mostly sunny, I’ll admit, but those few rainy days made the achievement worth so much more.

    The rains are a prelude to the inevitable winter, and I can already feel its bite in the air. But when the path grows dark and the winds bite, I will remember August. I will remember the days I chose to get wet, the miles I walked just to feel whole.

    August was not just a month of miles, but a lesson in resilience. It’s the assurance that I am a quiet force, and I will keep moving forward. One step at a time. The path awaits. And so do I.

  • The Victory Scream and the First Step

    My mind drifted today, back a few decades to a place I haven’t visited in a long time: my childhood living room on a Saturday afternoon. My uncle, the human exclamation point, was the star of the show. He was a football enthusiast of the highest order, and a true artist of the celebratory “GOAL!” scream.

    We always made sure to maintain a safe distance once we sensed a goal was imminent. We knew the routine: the sudden intake of breath, the high-pitched cheer, and the spontaneous eruption of a flying, two-fisted jump that often included an impromptu kick. We learned early on to stay well out of the potential splash zone.

    Anyway, that memory came roaring back today. It is the last week in August, and so I thought to check my step progress since I started Mindful Miles in June, and to my delight, I’ve met my daily goal every single day. And just like my uncle, I felt the urge to jump, to cheer, to make a victory scream! This time, though, it was a little more a quiet, satisfied “Goal!” just for me.

    Here’s what I’ve learnt – Like any journey, I’ve had my very easy days; moments when it seemed I was fueled by nothing but pure grace and a gentle tailwind. But I’ve also had the very challenging ones, where every step felt like a personal debate. I realise the secret to achieving any big goal, whether it’s walking for a hundred days or anything else you desire, isn’t in finding a magic formula. It’s in the audacity of taking that very first step.

    The monumental feeling of looking back on your progress is not just about the miles you’ve covered. It’s about remembering the day you decided to begin, the days you chose consistency over comfort, and the moments you learned that even a small step forward is a victory. Your journey is already underway, one step at a time. And when you finally have a moment to look back, you will see how far you’ve truly come.

    Today, as I reflect on the power of taking that first step, I choose to celebrate June, the month of my own birth and also the month that gave life to Mindful Miles. And to you I say – May the many miles you cover be bright and beautiful.

  • The Path of Stillness

    When the soul feels a storm brewing and your thoughts are a tangled web of noise and worry, the only path forward may be the one beneath your feet.

    Do not seek an answer, but a path. Walk, not to escape, but to meet the stillness within. Let the rhythm of your steps be a silent meditation, a way to unravel the knots in your mind and breathe peace into your heart.

    On the path, you are not running from your shadow; you are walking alongside it. You come to understand that the turmoil is not your whole story. It is simply a mountain you must eventually climb.

    And here is a Fun Fact: Many great thinkers, from Aristotle to Thoreau, used walking to cultivate their thoughts. The motion of the body can stir the depths of the mind, bringing new ideas to the surface.

    When you return, you will not have left the challenge behind, but you will have found the quiet strength to face it, a stillness born of movement. May every walk bring you closer to yourself.

  • On the Myth of a Perfect Walk

    “I just don’t get it,” she said, throwing her hands up in a familiar gesture of frustration. “I went for a walk today, trying to be mindful, and all I did was create a mental grocery list. My brain was a thousand miles away, thinking about my to-do list and whether or not I should finally get an air fryer.”

    She sighed and shook her head. “I just don’t think I’m cut out for this. Everyone talks about how serene it is, but my mind is just… a mess.”

    I smiled, recognizing the struggle. “But that’s the whole point,” I told her. “The goal isn’t a silent mind. That’s a myth.

    “”Your walk isn’t a failure just because your brain didn’t cooperate. The real art of mindfulness isn’t found in a perfectly calm state, but in the practice of gently bringing yourself back. Every time you noticed your mind wandering to that air fryer and brought it back to the feeling of the pavement beneath your feet—that was the mindful moment. That’s the work.”

    I watched her face relax.

    “Don’t judge the journey by your destination,” I said. “Judge it by the fact that you showed up for it. The point isn’t perfection; the point is persistence.”

  • Why I Walk

    I walk for the peace. In a world that constantly buzzes with noise, my walk is a quiet space to clear my mind and find my center.

    I walk for the clarity—for the moments when a tricky thought unravels, or a new idea comes to life, one step at a time. It’s a form of moving meditation where I can truly be present.

    I walk for the connection—to the feel of the sun on my face, the sound of the wind in the trees, and the simple beauty of the world around me.

    I walk to remind myself that progress doesn’t have to be a sprint; it can be a series of quiet, consistent steps.

    So, while the miles are a bonus, the real reason I walk is for the moments of joy, for the stillness, and for the simple act of showing up for myself, one step at a time.

  • Turning Initial Steps into a Sustainable Habit

    For many of us, the hardest part of a new journey isn’t taking that very first step—it’s taking the second, and the third, and the hundredth.

    That initial burst of motivation that got us off the couch and out the door is powerful, but it’s not enough to build a lasting habit. I know this because for a long time, my walking journey was a series of enthusiastic starts and quiet stops.

    But I’ve since learned that the secret isn’t more willpower; it’s a simple shift in mindset. It’s about turning a grand goal into a small, sustainable routine.

    So, how do we make those initial steps stick?

    You start by letting go of the idea of perfection. You don’t need a full hour. You don’t need a perfect route. You just need to show up. A fifteen-minute walk around the block is a victory, not a failure. It’s a promise to yourself that you’re going to keep showing up, even on the days you don’t feel like it.

    Try connecting your walk to an existing habit, like taking a short stroll right after your morning coffee or using it as a transition from work to home in the evening. This helps make it a natural part of your day, not a chore you have to squeeze in.

    Also, be prepared for those days when the weather doesn’t cooperate or the motivation simply isn’t there. Have a “why” that isn’t just about the numbers. Is it for the fresh air? To listen to a new podcast? To clear your head after a long day? Hold onto that reason.

    On a rainy day, maybe it’s not a long walk, but a quick trip to a local store or even a simple walk around the house. The goal is consistency, not intensity.

    The journey of a thousand miles truly begins with a single step, but it is built on the power of all the steps that follow.

    Celebrate the fifteen-minute victory. Applaud the walk on a cold day. Trust that every single one of those small, consistent choices is slowly building a new you—one purposeful step at a time.

  • Why I Write

    I write to make sense of the world, one sentence at a time. It’s my way of turning a quiet thought into a clear idea, or finding a story in an ordinary moment. For me, writing is how I capture the small steps and turn them into mindful miles, sharing a piece of my journey with you.

  • From Bus Stop to Mountain Top: My First Walk Home

    The idea had seemed so simple. Leave work a little early, stretch my legs, and find my “mindful miles” on the walk home. It was a beautiful, sun-drenched day, the kind that makes you believe anything is possible—even converting a confirmed indoor girl into a dedicated walker. I typed my home address into Google Maps, confident it would guide me effortlessly to a new, healthier me.

    The first ten minutes were pure bliss. The air was fresh, my headphones were full of a perfect podcast, and I felt a smug sense of accomplishment with every step. I was practically a wellness guru.

    But then, my little blue dot veered off the main road and onto a narrow, winding path that was decidedly not bus-friendly. My first thought was to give up. I looked longingly at the main road a few yards away, imagining a bus pulling up, its doors sighing open to rescue me from this newfound outdoor life. Just one quick escape, and I could be home, back on the couch, where I belonged.

    I kept walking, holding onto the hope that this was just a quick detour. It was then that the next hilarious truth revealed itself: my “scenic route” was also an epic mountain climb. The path tilted upwards, and every twist and turn revealed another hill, another stretch of relentless ascent.

    My calves burned, my lungs ached, and my glorious, sun-drenched walk had become a hilarious struggle against gravity. I considered calling a taxi, but Google had led me so far into this green-and-grassy maze, a car couldn’t even reach me. There was no turning back.

    With every heavy breath, I was reminded of a simple, beautiful truth: I had no choice but to keep going. I couldn’t sprint to the top of the hill, and I couldn’t teleport home. All I could do was put one foot in front of the other. It was a step-by-step negotiation with myself, a series of small, determined victories. The “mindful” part of my walk had been entirely overtaken by the “must-get-home-or-perish” part.

    Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the path leveled out, and I saw my street in the distance. I was exhausted, sweaty, and a little bit bewildered, but a massive grin spread across my face. I had done it.

    My first long walk home had been a comedy of errors, a series of wrong turns and unexpected climbs, but it was a journey I completed one hard-earned step at a time. And as I finally walked through my front door, I knew that if I could conquer Google’s hilly footpath, I could truly conquer anything.