Walking Alone, Together
Why the paths we travel solo often connect us most deeply
Some of the most meaningful journeys we take begin quietly—without a fanfare, without a destination, and often, without company.
But that doesn’t mean we walk them alone.
In fact, the walks we take on our own often bring us closer to others. They attune us to what matters. They prepare us to lead, connect, and create.
An Invitation to the Inner Path
Late summer invites both savoring and shifting. We hold onto light in the evenings, breathe in the gold of August fields, and begin, sometimes tentatively, to plan. The season itself becomes a kind of threshold—a moment when we reflect on where we've been and where we might be going.
Over the years, I’ve written about the importance of honoring these thresholds. In one early essay I titled Walking Toward Something, I shared that walking—especially without distraction—had become one of the most clarifying practices in my life.
When we walk, we process. When we walk, we listen differently. When we walk, we make space for something new.
“There is something about walking that enables us to hold more without being overwhelmed by it. To carry something heavy in motion is often easier than standing still beneath its weight.”
That still rings true.
From the Royal River to Portland’s Promenade
For years, I hosted a weekly program called Walk with the Doc—first along the Royal River near my family medicine practice, and later along the Eastern Prom in Portland where I was a teacher and consultant for a large health system.
The idea was simple: show up, move your body, talk if you want to, listen if you don’t. No pressure, no pace requirements, no white coats. Just people walking—patients, staff, caregivers, families.
It was one of the most satisfying and community-affirming initiatives I’ve ever been part of.
Though the program I offered was unaffiliated with any larger organization, similar models have now sprung up around the country. In fact, the “Walk with the Doc”concept was referenced recently at a Harvard University lifestyle medicine conference. It turns out, walking together—wherever and however we can—still matters.
“Every body can walk—in their own way. On feet or wheels. In thought or spirit. The point isn’t distance. It’s direction.”
Leadership, Story, and the Inner Compass
As a physician and leader, I’ve seen how much we benefit when we take time to walk with ourselves—not just for exercise, but for reflection. This is where narrative medicine and lifestyle medicine intersect: they both honor the full story of a life.
Narrative medicine asks us to listen more deeply—to our patients, our communities, and ourselves.
Lifestyle medicine reminds us that movement, connection, rest, and creative engagement are all part of what keeps us well.
Together, they form a kind of ecosystem. A bountiful path.
“We lead best when we walk with presence—and let that presence guide how we show up for others.”
Reflection Prompts
If you have time for a walk this week—on land or in mind—consider bringing one of these thoughts with you:
What season of life are you walking through right now?
What path are you resisting, and what might happen if you took the first step?
Who might be walking alongside you—even if you haven’t yet noticed?
Leave a comment if something resonates. Or simply take the walk. You’ll know if and when you want to share.
The truth is, we’re walking together more often than we realize.
Coming later this week:
Books on the Boat returns with a new rec—and soon, a Radio Maine solo episode about rediscovery and reconnection.
Thanks for walking with me.
Warmly,
Lisa