Kelly Rose Bradford: A rambling revelation

Sep 15 2008 Surrey Herald

A couple of weeks ago I went out with the Staines Ramblers on an eight mile walk. It was something of a revelation, for all kinds of reasons - the fact I could walk that far without expiring probably being the most amazing.

It should be noted I was joining them in the name of research rather than out of an overwhelming desire to amble through muddy fields and forests on a Saturday morning - though I admit the scheduled pub break was a slight draw and perhaps the thing that ultimately persuaded me when checking out their programme.

I have to confess 'rambling' was not something I had actively considered doing in the past - it's always struck me as one of those slightly pointless pastimes and one that would lead me to think of all the other things I should be doing instead, like my tax return or scrubbing the kitchen floor.

Rambling, to me, just didn't seem to have any kind of end result; I'd have quite simply just walked. And not for any real purpose.

But, despite my misgivings, I got up early on the Saturday morning and made my way to the meeting point at Staines station.

Having agonised over what to wear, what to take and what to do in the event of a hyperventilation-induced collapse, I ended up entirely inappropriately dressed and lacking in essentials - water and an umbrella.

Fortunately the Staines Ramblers is a friendly and accommodating bunch and rain capes and drinking water were soon proffered.

By the time we broke for lunch I was somewhat surprised that I was actually enjoying it and the company of the other walkers. Talking and walking, I discovered, is the best way to eat up the miles without actually noticing. By the time we had completed the full eight miles I was slightly giddy with euphoria.

And given my usual walking prowess doesn't extend much beyond the paper shop, the station and dragging my heels around the shops, I felt I had really achieved something.

And the kitchen floor and the tax return didn't enter my head once. I would even go as far as to say it was fun, which is reassuring given what is next on my walking agenda - a 20-mile night hike around central London in aid of a cancer charity.

Now it has dawned on me over the past few days as I have been sauntering around to the post box and the cash point and convincing myself I'm 'training' that there is quite a difference between eight miles and 20 miles. Er, 12 miles to be precise.

So how I'll fair on the streets of our capital under the cover of darkness with 1,200 other walkers come Friday is anyone's guess.

And in the absence of a scheduled (and motivating) pub break, anyone got a hip flask going spare?