A more cheerful commute

Compartmentalizing our lives is a common practice. We need to take a break and switch off regularly to destuff our overcrowded minds. What we think of as switching off can be very different though – for some people it’s lying on a beach whilst for others it’s doing something involving (from building model aircraft to playing in an orchestra). Some people need to sit still, and others go to the gym.

Sunny day? Take the towpath….

 But what about the journey? The transition from one activity to another – the trip from a to b is the little-regarded glue that holds our lives together. It’s the time and displacement we try to reduce, hurrying up this ‘nothing time’ and travelling as quickly as possible. The journey is the impediment to instant gratification, the length of the gap between intention and activity. It impedes our ambitions, slows down our ability to earn money, reduces the time we can take for our hobbies. The mere displacement in time and space puts the the brakes on the transition from one compartment in our lives to the other.

These interstitial spaces can be rich though. Unbidden, they create a time in which our minds start to focus on the future. It’s a time that we can use richly or expend in irritation and impatience. Whether we actively set out to employ this time – listening to podcasts or (providing it’s not driving time) reading – or just allow our eyes to focus on the horizon and minds to wander positively it is a sizeable fraction of our lives that we shouldn’t disregard.

Finding value in the transit time is important – there’s so much of it in modern life. So how can we make the journey valuable? I’d argue that we can make it rich by moving, looking and thinking.

The first, movement, is crucial for humans – it’s what we do. Modern life requires less of it for many people – desk jobs and seated activities are the norm. The sofa sucks us in to watch television, chat, game or read. It’s increasingly easy to pass from one activity to another without changing state. Wake up and - from horizontal - pass to a seated commute – driving or sitting on a train – and thence to a seated job. Reverse this and reach home with hardly any fresh air or exercise. The gym or swimming pool might await but an hour or so there is only a fraction of the day. A small compartment compared to our ancestral habits of moving for much of our waking hours.

The journey is an opportunity to move. Can you work some walking into your journeys? Would a bike be possible?

Practical commuter bike with mudguards and tool bag

For me, the best days at work have started with cold commutes. I’ve cycled to work whenever possible – even swapping out an hour on the train for an early start and three hours on the bike every so often to change the pattern of my days. Swinging a leg over the bike and pushing off in the dark is not easy. But once the first pedal is turned it takes on its own momentum. There’s the movement of legs and arms that reconnects my limbs to my brain. There’s the air on your face. There are the views. The chance to lift your eyes up to the sky. The landscape – or the city scape. Back roads and byeways. An opportunity to look at the world before settling down to work.

There’s a thing in our modern world. We’ve innovated beyond the capacity of our bodies. There’s more easy, seated time. More food – and more calories concentrated in it.

Where life was a physical struggle and food scarce our efforts were directed at finding nutrition and rest. Our assumptions were based on valuing more food and less movement. Reasonable in a harsh environment (and still is where there is more food insecurity and physical labour). In sedentary societies our focus needs to be on choosing to move, and choosing to eat less calory dense diets. There’s a cognitive load to this – a constant appraisal of what constitutes ‘enough’.

Never pass up a chance to take in the view.

Threading our days with movement, assuming we’ll walk and cycle for local trips, is an easy way to look after ourselves without over thinking and over planning.

Valuing movement changes our perspective. It opens up journey time to be the time to look around and appreciate the details of the world around. I think better on the move, ideas drop into my head and solutions present themselves. I’m more productive after a walk or bike ride. The only downside is that once I run out of ideas I start to get itchy feet.

The over-quoted ‘life’s a journey’ sometimes hides that very truth. All our time is precious – and all too short. The bits of life that are movement and getting from A to B are valuable, an integral part of life. Not just empty time whilst we move in space. Value them and they will bring you riches.

Home the long way with Jess and a chance to get high…