You know that moment when you're ankle-deep in quicksand and realize panicking will only make you sink faster? Okay, maybe not actual quicksand (what is this—the Goonies?!), but metaphorical quicksand. That feeling of overwhelm when life feels like a never-ending cycle of deadlines, unanswered texts, and Netflix asking if you're still watching. A few years ago, I found myself stuck, treading water—not in the literal Pacific (thankfully), but in my own stressed-out, over-scheduled life. And the habit that saved me? A morning walk. Plain, simple, mind-blowingly transformative. Let me explain.

The Turning Point: Beach-Staring and Burnout

My "aha" moment came during one of those rock-bottom days where even a "good vibes only" tote bag couldn’t lift the fog. I was juggling a demanding job, trying to deepen my relationships, and spending far too much time analyzing vague texts from guys who couldn’t commit to punctuation, let alone a second date.

One morning, desperate for clarity—and honestly, just quiet—I wandered down to my favorite beach. Picture this: La Jolla's golden sand, gentle waves lapping at the shore, pelicans doing their prehistoric-looking fly-by formations. It was a scene straight out of a Visit California ad, but the magic didn’t hit me all at once. At first, I just stood there, staring at the horizon and letting myself exist. No to-do lists. No distractions. Just me, the ocean, and a universal sense of "you’ve got some things to figure out, lady."

Why Walking Works (And Why You’re Not Doing It Enough)

Science backs me up. Studies show that regular walking reduces stress, boosts creativity, improves physical health… blah, blah, blah. You’ve probably heard it all before. But what nobody told me is that walking is sneaky. It’s low-stakes enough that you don’t need a Peloton membership or motivational quotes on your water bottle to start, but it subtly rewires your brain.

Unlike hitting the gym, which can feel like a performance (hello, trying not to look ridiculous during a new pilates class), walking frees you. You don’t have to count reps, monitor heart rates, or wait for someone to wipe down a machine. You just step forward, and then keep stepping.

Here’s why I think my morning walks stuck when other "healthy habits" didn’t:

  • It's Meditation for People Who Hate Meditating. Sitting cross-legged in silence has never been my jam. Walking became my workaround—a moving meditation where I could breathe, process, or just listen to my favorite Jack Johnson album on repeat.
  • Nature Is Therapy. Maybe it’s the coastal upbringing in me, but there’s something healing about being outside. The ocean was like that wise best friend who doesn’t offer advice but silently reminds you, “You’ll figure it out.”
  • It’s Flexible. Some days I’d walk for 10 minutes; others, I’d lose track of time and find myself three beach coves away. No pressure, no expectations—just motion.

Lessons From the Shoreline

As the weeks went by, my walks became more than just an excuse to soak up vitamin D in activewear. They were my therapy sessions, my brainstorming lab, my time to reflect on messy relationships or decompress after a painful rejection. Somewhere along the line, I started noticing parallels between my walks and life, particularly love:

  • Ebb and Flow. Relationships, like the tides, have their highs and lows. But the ocean taught me not to fear the low tide—it’s often when you can see the most fascinating things, like hidden tidepools or delicate sand patterns. Similarly, those “low” moments in love can reveal what you need to work on, what you truly want.
  • Slow Progress Is Still Progress. When you’re walking along the beach, speed doesn’t matter. Taking one step after another eventually brings you closer to where you want to be—and isn’t that true for self-improvement, too? After a heartbreak, it’s easy to feel stuck, but even the smallest effort (like texting a friend or saying no to a situationship) moves you forward.
  • Waves Crash, and Then They Recede. The “drama” you’re caught up in—whether it’s a ghosted text or a fight over which Netflix show to binge—isn’t permanent. Like waves pounding a rocky shore, it might feel overwhelming in the moment, but wait long enough, and it always settles.

How to Make Your Mini Habit Stick

Let me guess: you’re already making excuses. “I’m not a beach person.” “I don’t have time for morning walks.” I hear you. I was also the queen of “I’ll start tomorrow.” But here’s how I turned my walks into a non-negotiable part of my day—no sand required.

  1. Start Ridiculously Small. Commit to 5 minutes a day. Yep, that’s it. Walk to your mailbox. Walk around the block. Keep it so easy it feels silly not to do it.
  2. Make It Yours. Throw on a rom-com podcast or a playlist of the songs you secretly belt out in the shower. Use the time to enjoy you.
  3. Pair It With Something You Already Do. Morning coffee? Grab your cup and take it outside. Walking your dog? Add a loop to your usual route.
  4. Focus on Process, Not Perfection. Some walks will feel zen and inspiring; others, you’ll have blisters and curse your shoes. It doesn’t matter. Keep going.

A Habit That Stuck, and a Life That Shifted

Years later, my walking habit has become my anchor. I might no longer live in La Jolla full-time (hello, apartment life sans shoreline), but I’ve kept the practice alive—through city parks, quiet trails, and even industrial neighborhoods with views of nothing but power lines. Because ultimately, it’s not about where you are; it’s about showing up for yourself.

That small habit—the one I almost dismissed as too simple—taught me how to pause, how to listen, how to connect with the things that truly matter. And honestly, it’s probably saved me from sending more than a few angsty 2 a.m. texts.

So, whether you’re staring down your own metaphorical quicksand, managing a heart that feels heavier than it should, or just searching for some clarity in the noise—take a step. Then take another. You might be surprised what it shifts, how it saves you—even if it's just 10 minutes of peace before the chaos begins again.