This walk that I did some weeks ago echoed the move that I did a year ago where I relocated to a new house in hope of new possibilities. The move back then was as much about having a physical clean slate to start afresh as it was a metaphorical gesture to move forward with life, and to do the walk on the anniversary of the move was my way of remembering what I had left behind.
I plotted out a route that began from the old place at Clementi, along the canal where I began my walking practice (or is it habit? hobby?), and through a long sliver of nature in this city of mine called the Rail Corridor. This would lead me to pass by the neighbourhood of Cantonment where I once lived in briefly before reaching Singapore's CBD. Then from there it would be a walk through Marina Bay, East Coast Park, Bedok, and Tampines - areas where recent walks have taken place.
It then started to emerge from the map that this would be a 39km walk. One kilometre for each year that I've been on this planet. And just like that, this had the added significance of being a 'birthday walk'.
From a once familiar place, I set off in the afternoon with a new familiarity of what walking these long distances entails. I had gear and supplies that I had learnt I required from distances clocked over the last year. But I also had an unfamiliar equipment with me. This time, I had a camera.
As someone who started walking as a form of escape, these jaunts have always been about listening to the sound of my body and the voices of fear and gratitude in my head. But that day, the walk had an added dimension of noticing and documenting the routes I traversed. I've never been much of a 'taking photos' or 'being photographed' type of person so this was different. I had to embrace pauses alongside movement and I had to freeze a moment while being in it.
It was cooling after the rain. The downpour had caused the greens and blacks along the pavement to be deeper and brighter than usual. The water in the canal had also turned murky brown instead of the picturesque blue that it was capable of. As I searched for the right pace to carry me through the walk, I also searched for things to photograph.
Right from the beginning, I found myself surrounded by walls and canopies of green. Deliberate planting of different forms and heights screened the apartment blocks from my view and as I progressed further from the neighbourhoods, the greens got wilder. Gradually, the curated selection of plants were replaced by haphazard but natural clusters of vegetation.
I then came into the company of ghosts from a railway long gone. The space where trains once traversed to Malaysia has been reclaimed for public recreational use in recent years and today, cyclists and pedestrians grind the dirt track. Mature plants that have witnessed decades of travelling humans welcomed me with their grand arches and generous shade, and at times, they engulfed me with their majesty.
But even as I walked in the greens, the city were to remind me that I never really left. From behind the organic screen, pops of colour and regular geometry would peek at me. I may be walking through kilometres of vegetation beside me, but I am still walking through a garden. I was walking through a place that is known as a 'city in a garden'.
My repetitive strides brought me to another garden at the "City Centre" which is actually located at the southern part of the island. To reach this man-made land Singapore calls Marina Bay, I had to go past the old Tanjong Pagar railway station that once thrived with commerce and through the valley of high-rise office towers in Shenton Way.
There, I found myself surrounded by people. The peace from the first part of the walk disappeared. Couples on dates. Dogs being walked. Groups recording dances. The Bay seemed hazy but I did't think anyone noticed. In this era of social distancing, it was the social company that mattered most to them.
I kept walking while others jogged along the paths in Gardens by the Bay. I saw kites littered across the blue sky and it made me smile. Feelings of fullness and awe intersected from seeing the vastness above. There's also a joy from seeing kites soar and sway gracefully while being lightly tethered to the hands of someone. I remembered the hands of someone. I noticed the joy in my heart and I gave thanks to all the things that were going well in my life.
The sun was fast approaching the horizon and so I kept my snack and stretch break at the 19 kilometres mark short. It was my first break, but I knew that it would not be my last. This has been the comfortable part of the walk and it will only get progressively challenging as the pounding of sole to hard ground takes its toll on me.
I started to outline the eastern edge of the island with my feet. The water in the straits reflected the night sky and the bright lights not of stars but of the ships in the distance. Intellectually, I knew that Singapore has one of the busiest waterways in the world, but I couldn't quite tell if these ships were moored or moving.
Grateful for the cooling night, I tried to commit to the steady pace from before. Cyclists zoomed past me while I brisk-walked past slower strollers. Meanwhile, picnickers on the beach were letting this gentle breeze carry their chatter and laughter into the sky. Their antics offered me a distraction from my burning muscles and pulsating aches, and that was how I carried myself through the 20s segment of the walk.
I've walked enough to know that there exists a threshold within the 25 to 27km mark where my comfortable becomes challenged. Going further than that would require a conscious push, and going beyond the 35km mark would trigger 'internal curses'. At this point, my feet would be crying for help while my brain would be shouting at me to stop. This would then be the part of the walk where I trick myself into continuing with promises of 'just the next bus stop' or humming tunes that repeat ad infinitum.
I'm invested in this 39km walk so I continued to hurl myself forward using the momentum of the previous step and I tried to not stop for fear of losing it. At one point, I was mentally counting distances in my head by increments of 50 meters to keep myself going. But although I kept walking, the photo-taking started to slow down significantly. The battery in the camera had gone flat earlier and I had been using my phone to do the deed over the last 10km but I didn't have the energy or desire to take more.
It was past 10pm and there was a palpable sense of stillness in the sky. Room windows glowed while pavements were deserted. The silence was melancholic and solitude bordered on the lonely.
Slightly delirious from adrenaline and exhaustion, I then saw how the 30s of my life echoed the 30s of my walk. The early to mid 30s were challenging but it also filled me with pride and highs when I overcame it. However, the last few before 39 were the worst. Those were the ones that threatened to break my spirit and I often did not know if and how I would make it through. But I kept on going forward. I was far from the home that I started off from, but I saw signs which pointed to me that my new home is just right ahead. I end the 30s in the warm embrace of a new home.
Many hours later, one end to the other. One step at a time, past to future. The person who walked in, coming out of it as another. This is 39.
