Lessons from Walking 60 Miles with a bunch of Strangers

Those of you who follow me on socials probably already know that last week I did what it says in the title of this newsletter: I walked 60 miles (or 100km) over the course of 5 days with a group of people I’d never met before, all to raise money for a charity that educates people on spotting the symptoms of breast cancer early.

Throughout the week when people asked me why I made the decision to absolutely obliterate my feet on a gruelling trek along the coastline of Wales, I told them the truth. Which is that I got the email asking me to go on a day when I happened to be in a really good mood. A “say yes to everything and deal with it later!” mood. Sidenote: watch out for those moods, did you know you actually have to do the things you say yes to? Including treks?!

What followed was the most physically challenging week of my life… 5:45am wake-up calls. Walking on blisters for hours on end, coming back with heat rash some days and wind burn on others. Shoulder aches from lugging around backpacks then getting home to your tent in a field with some portaloos. It was brutal. It was also fucking magical.

I have a feeling I’ll be gathering up the lessons that last week taught me for a long time, but for now, here are some things I’ve managed to piece together:

1.      People will help you (if you let them).

I’ve always been the type of person who just likes to get shit done by themselves. I was that nerdy one at school who was more than happy to take on the entire group project themselves because it meant I could control every element and make sure it was all as * perfect * as possible.

But perfect doesn’t matter when you fall down and the only way you can keep going is by letting people in to support you.

On the last day of the trek my feet were so wrecked that I was hobbling every step, and just before the halfway point something super gross went on inside my socks that hurt so bad it literally fell me to the floor. Suddenly these people - who I didn’t even know a handful of days ago - were offering to carry my backpack things between them, giving me a different pair of shoes to wear so I could keep going, passing me tissues and drinks and walking slower so I didn’t get left behind.

They wanted to help simply because I was part of their team. All I had to do was let them. And we carried on walking…

2.      Universe finds a way.

There was some stuff on that trek that was too freaky to be a coincidence.

To start with, we were lucky enough to have one member of the team, Cheryl, who is profoundly deaf and had come on the trek to raise awareness of accessibility, and show her kids that she (and they) can do anything. She turned up knowing no-one, unsure whether we’d be inclusive, and wound up on the same trek, in the same team, and in the same tent as the wonderful Theresa (“Tree”) who just happened to speak British Sign Language.

Nobody (including the charity) planned it. It just was. And because those two people were thrown together in such an unexpectedly beautiful way, the entire team grew closer together. We had more important conversations. We recognised where we could be doing better. We all ended up learning enough BSL to add signs to our team song by the end of the week (and we won the song competition!).

As the days passed it seemed like everyone on the team brought something that another person needed – one day an amazing trekker called Rosie had an asthma attack, and there was Helen, another trekker who happened to be a breathwork practitioner, there to guide her through it when there weren’t any inhalers available.

Of all the treks and all the countries and all the people in the world, we had everything we needed right there. And it felt like universe level stuff to me.

3.      Bodies are resilient af.

Anyone who knows me would raise their eyebrow a mile high at the idea that I voluntarily agreed to walk 100km in 5 days.

Don’t get me wrong, if the music’s good I can dance until the early hours and I LOVE a (short) walk. But my body was not prepared for this. And she did it anyway.

There were trekkers at all levels of physical fitness, trekkers who ran every day and trekkers who’d barely even broken in their walking boots. There were women who’d only finished chemotherapy a handful of months ago and others carrying grief, loss and trauma. And we all… kept going.

I think we amazed ourselves. And every one of us left more thankful for these gross blistered meatsacks we call home. Bodies are resilient af.

4.      The human spirit is resilient af.

What I’ll remember from those days of trekking (besides the pain, fatigue, sweat and wild wees), is the laughter, the singing, the storytelling, the 6am good mornings and afternoon slump pep-talks.

Those things felt like small sparks of magic to me. Not only because we were doing something - in that moment - that was really fucking hard, but because most of the women on the trek had come from places in life that were really fucking hard. They’d all chosen to do a charity challenge raising money for breast cancer awareness, mostly from a place of deep personal connection. They shared what they’d been through, what they’d lost, what had brought them to where they are.

And then they laughed, and sang, and told stories. They let the joy in and they kept looking ahead.

They made me believe that life can’t break you if you don’t let it. That was the most beautiful gift they could have given me.

I didn’t expect to find the connections I did. In fact – I expected to not have very much in common with anyone and to feel socially overwhelmed very quickly. Those things were both true. I didn’t have much in common with a lot of people and there were times when I felt overwhelmed by it all.

But I left feeling more part of a team than I’ve felt. I left feeling seen, and cared for, and appreciated. I left feeling so thankful that I got an email asking me to be a team captain on a 100km trek on a day when I was in a good enough mood to say yes.

I’m so grateful that I said yes.

Here’s to you team, and to Coppafeel, for an absolutely unforgettable week.

Love,

M

💜