I thought it would just be good exercise, a way to clear my head. I did not expect it to teach me anything. But over time, I learned something, something about patience in long distance walking: I am not as patient as I thought. I began to notice the discomfort of slowness. Walking does not offer the quick wins I was used to, like getting somewhere fast in a car or checking off tasks, distracting myself with social media. I have learned that patience is not just about waiting; it is about how you wait. It is about how you show up and keep moving when nothing exciting happens or progress is invisible. That is exactly what writing often feels like. You show up even when you are not motivated, you write. And most days, nothing happens. No audience, no applause, just the sound of your own doubt. ‘Why Sharing My Work Feels Like Sharing My Soul,’ I write because I don’t know how else to think. I write to listen to myself, but at the same time, publishing it feels exposed and uncertain if anyone even wants to see the parts of me I am showing.

You Can’t Rush Long Walks

When I begin a long walk, there is a natural urge to walk fast or to get it over with. But walking long distances punishes that kind of speed. My body quickly reminds me that it hurts. It lets me know that long walks don’t reward speed; they reward consistency. It teaches me that slow and steady is the only sustainable way forward. This same applies to anything you start—projects, recovery, relationships. If you rush through things, you often end up having to start over again.

There are no shortcuts in long-distance walking. You cannot skip steps. You cannot fast-forward success, healing, or deep connection. You have to walk every part of the journey. Eventually, once you accept the pace, your mindset shifts. You are no longer anxious about the destination. You begin to find peace in the walk itself. You learn to be with the process; you stop being impatient about how far there is to go and not just race to the outcome.

This reminded me of “How Chess Mirrors the Pace of Slow Living,” where every move matters and rushing costs you clarity.

Discomfort Does Not Mean You Are Doing It Wrong

If you have been following me, you know that I have been walking for more than two years now. The beginning was always the hardest. If you are just starting to walk, your feet will ache. Your back will get tight. And you start to question, “Is this supposed to feel this hard?” But after a while, as long as you are consistent for a period of time, you will realise that discomfort is not a sign of failure that should deter you from continuing what you started. It is a natural part of the process. The pain or the discomfort is not permanent. It does not mean you should give up; instead, this means you are adapting. Often, we treat discomfort as a warning to quit, but sometimes it is just a sign that we are stretching into new territory, to be part of the routine. It is growth that is forming from pain, confusion, uncertainty, or when you don’t feel like doing anything. It’s the discomfort we are conditioned to avoid.

Similar to how “Compassion Can Be a Catalyst for Creativity,” discomfort can also be a doorway to growth, not a stop sign.

Progress Is Often Invisible Until Later

Just because you don’t feel like you are making progress does not mean you are not. We always want to see the results fast, and if not, we will be discouraged or give up. The thing is, progress can be quiet, invisible, and slow. That doesn’t make it any less real. You have a lot of expectations upfront.

Just like walking, sometimes the journey feels repetitive, tiring, or boring. You don’t feel any different from three minutes to the next. You keep asking, “Why does it feel like nothing’s changing?” In our daily life, we expect to see immediate results. If we don’t, we assume we are stuck or failing. If you don’t feel good now, something must be wrong. If you don’t see results, you are wasting your time. Change is rarely dramatic until you reflect on how far you have come. The act of showing up even when you don’t feel like it, the 0.01% improvement that seems so small that you don’t realise, compounds every consistent day you put your work and effort. It may feel small or like you are not achieving anything. Sometimes, we don’t realise we keep changing our expectations to be higher, raising the bar every time we achieve something.

This is why “Walk Your Way to Clarity” matters, because sometimes, your direction becomes clear only after distance.

You Start Noticing What You Usually Miss

When you walk, you are forced to go at a slower, human pace. You could sprint, but you know this is a long game: training, work in progress, learning. There is no use trying to stuff everything in all at once. At a slower speed, your senses come alive because you will start noticing details you would usually overlook. That shift in attention creates a kind of awareness that teaches you to be present and not constantly looking to the next thing. And being present is the foundation of true patience. Because most of the time, we live in distraction that is trying to steal our focus, our attention. Being patient is not just about waiting, but how you wait.

I felt this again in “How Walking Inspires My Journaling Practice,” where the walk is not just motion; it is mental stillness too.

You Build Mental Endurance, Active Commitment

At first, your body gets tired, but what really tests you is mental boredom. Without distractions from social media, music, podcasts, your mind asks, “Why am I even doing this?” But when you don’t quit and stay the course, something shifts: your mind stops fighting the slowness. You begin to flow with time instead of resisting it. Why? Because most people avoid boredom by constantly stimulating their minds. But the resistance to silence is what blocks deep presence and true patience. And through long walks, you will discover that patience is not just enduring time but learning to exist fully inside it. Stillness is uncomfortable, especially for creators or thinkers who rely too much on noise to avoid thought, but when you recognise this feeling, you can change it.

It echoes what I wrote in “Why We Fear Boredom.” Patience is what you find when you stop running from stillness.

Just like “Writing Helps Clarify Your Thoughts,” walking clarifies your commitment step by step.

The Destination Becomes Secondary

We are usually taught to ignore stillness and focus on results, hitting milestones, or reaching a destination. But when you go on a long walk and stop obsessing about the results, you begin to enjoy the act of walking itself. The process becomes fulfilling and exciting, not just the outcome itself. I realised the fun of the process every time I started something new: curious – explore – trying out – challenges – challenges – with or without progress – persistent – keep trying – achieved. The fun part is the middle part of the whole thing, exploration and challenges, where a silent shout of YES when you achieved your goal, the feeling of relief or happiness, just lasts a few moments or days. If we only feel satisfied when we reach the next goal, then we miss out on the beauty of the present. Patience is an active appreciation of the moment, even when the end is not in sight. Stop chasing the finish line so hard.

This connects to “What If Your Life Is Already a Masterpiece, Just Unedited?” The idea that you don’t need to rush to the polished ending. You just need to keep showing up.

You Cannot Download Endurance

We live in a world that promises instant everything: faster internet, same-day delivery, 30-minute solutions. The truth is, you cannot download endurance. You have to build it. One step at a time. One mile at a time.

Walking long distances did not just teach me to move slower. It taught me to trust slow. To respect the kind of effort that does not come with immediate validation. To see time not as something to beat, but as something to be in. That’s patience. Not passive waiting, but active, present endurance. And it’s something I am still learning step by step.

I shared a similar reflection in “Do You Wish Time to Fly or to Feel Slow?” Slowness is not a flaw. It is often where the real living happens.

Budget Patiently

Walking long distances is slow, tiring, and sometimes boring. But if you keep going, you make real progress step by step. Just like managing money feels slow: tracking expenses, resisting impulse purchases, saving a bit at a time, investing consistently, and not letting our emotions control us. Over time, these small actions add up to something, compounding habits that lead to our objective, whether to fund our retirement, achieve a personal financial goal, or build an emergency fund. Your goals could be huge, and your effort could seem small; there is no shortcut, but if you keep going, you will get there. Trusting the process, that “Day One” process. When you look back, you will be amazed by how far you have come.

This became clear while writing “How to Align Your Money with a Slow Living Mindset” and “How Walking Saves You Money & Boosts Your Well-Being.” Small actions, over time, create major change.

The Pace That Changes You

Walking long distances didn’t just strengthen my body. It reshaped my mindset. It slowed me down enough to see what I’d usually rush past: the subtle progress, the discomfort that teaches, the stillness that heals, and the deep reward of staying with something even when nothing flashy is happening.

It reminded me that patience isn’t passive. It’s not just waiting for things to get better. It’s being in the moment even when the moment feels boring, uncomfortable, or uncertain and choosing to stay. To show up. To keep going.

Whether I’m writing, saving money, or navigating life’s many unknowns, I return to the rhythm of walking. Not fast. Not perfect. But consistent.

Because the walk itself is the growth. And the path teaches, if you’re willing to take it—step by step.