A Rainy Walk Around the Whole Park

Today I went for another walk on my usual route, but I changed one important thing: I did not stay on the main walking track. I know that track very well. I take photos of it almost every time. It is simple, familiar, and easy to follow. But lately it has started to feel a little short for me. My body is getting used to it. My mind is getting used to it too. So I decided to make my walk longer by exploring the entire park.

The weather helped me make this decision. It was one of those soft winter days that feels clean and gentle. A light rain was falling, not heavy at all—just enough to make the air smell fresh. Everything looked brighter because the ground was wet. The sky was grey, but the park still felt alive. There were not many people. That made it even better. It felt like the park was quiet on purpose, like it was giving me space.

When I entered the park, I slowed down a little. I wanted to really see everything. I noticed how the paths curve and split into different directions. Some paths are wide and smooth, some are made of stone patterns, and some go up and down between the trees. The grass looked very green because of the rain. In winter, I expect dry colors, but the park surprised me today. The green was strong, like it refused to disappear.

I also noticed small groups of snow. Last week it snowed, and most of it melted, but some pieces stayed. In some corners, under trees or near the edges, there were little piles of white snow. They looked like tiny memories of the storm. I loved seeing them. It made the park feel like a place with layers—today’s rain, last week’s snow, and the season changing slowly.

As I walked deeper, I saw more parts of the park that I usually skip. There were benches placed along the paths, and they were wet and shiny. Some benches faced open green spaces, and some faced the road outside the park. I liked the benches that looked into the trees more. They felt calmer. The trees were mostly bare, with thin branches like lines drawn in the sky. But there were also evergreen trees—big and strong, full of dark green leaves. Those trees made the whole park feel protected.

And then, I started hearing them: the crows. They were everywhere. I didn’t see many other birds today, but the crows were clearly the owners of this rainy morning. They were walking on the grass, flying between branches, and sometimes just standing still like they were watching me. I know crows can look serious, but today they felt cute to me. They were busy in their own world, and they made the park feel more natural, like I was walking inside a small ecosystem.

After some time, I realized I was smiling for no reason. It wasn’t a “big happiness” moment. It was simple. The fresh air, the quiet, the rain, the sound of my steps, and the crows—everything was working together.

Taking the Longer Way and Loving the Hills

The biggest difference today was the hills. On my usual route, I mostly stay on flat ground. It is comfortable, and it is easy to keep a steady pace. But when I started exploring the whole park, I found many slopes and stairs. At first, I thought, “Okay, this is going to be a challenge.” But then I thought, “Good. That’s why I’m here.”

Some parts of the park go up gently, and some parts go up a lot. At one point, I found a long slope that really tested me. I walked faster because I wanted to keep my energy. The rain made the ground slippery in some places, so I focused carefully on my steps. My legs started to burn, especially my calves and thighs. I could feel my body working harder than usual. It was not comfortable, but it was a good kind of discomfort—the kind that says, “You are getting stronger.”

I also found stairs that go down toward the park entrance and the road. Going down felt easy at first, but I know that going down also works the body in a different way. It makes your legs control your weight, and that can be tiring too. The best part was going back up again. That was the real work. My breathing got deeper. My heart rate went up. I felt my body waking up.

I walked past different areas: a basketball court, children’s playgrounds, and outdoor exercise equipment. The playground had bright colors, and the ground looked soft and safe. Even in the rain, it looked cheerful. The outdoor fitness machines were lined up on a red surface, and they looked ready for action, even though nobody was using them. The whole place felt clean and organized, like the park was designed for people to move, breathe, and reset.

At times, the park felt like a small city inside the city. Around it, there were tall buildings and streets and cars. But inside, it was mostly trees, grass, paths, and quiet. The rain made the city sounds softer, like someone turned the volume down.

I kept walking and walking. I didn’t rush. I wanted this walk to be “enough.” I wanted to feel tired in a satisfying way. And I did. I walked for more than an hour, and I didn’t notice the time passing. That’s the best kind of walk—when your mind stops counting minutes and starts simply being present.

A Simple Ending: Kefir, Eggs, and a Quiet Pride

When I finally started heading home, I chose the longer way again. I could have taken the short route, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to finish the walk properly. By then, my legs were tired. My body felt heavy, but also lighter in a strange way—like stress had been washed out by the rain.

On the way, I stopped by the market. I didn’t buy many things, just simple ones: kefir, bread, and eggs. But this small stop felt like the perfect ending. It was like a reward, but also like a continuation of the healthy feeling from the walk. Kefir and eggs felt like practical choices—simple food, strong nutrition, nothing fancy, just what the body needs.

When I got home, I felt something important: satisfaction. This walk really “fit” me today. It didn’t feel rushed. It didn’t feel too easy. It didn’t feel like I was doing it just because I should. It felt natural, like my body was asking for more movement and my mind was saying yes.

Today also reminded me that walking is not only for one season. Winter, summer—it doesn’t matter. Here, winters can be cold, but not always extremely snowy, so it is still possible to walk. And even when the weather is grey, the park can be beautiful. Sometimes, the grey sky makes the green grass look even greener. Sometimes, a little rain makes everything feel more alive.

This new route showed me something: I have grown. The old track is still good, but now it is not enough on its own. My body wants more hills, more distance, more challenge. And honestly, I like that. It feels like progress—not loud progress, not dramatic progress, but quiet progress.

So today I didn’t just walk. I explored. I pushed myself. I enjoyed the rain. I watched the crows. I found the leftover snow. I climbed hills, went down stairs, and came back up again. I went home tired, but happy in a calm way.

And for me, that is a perfect winter day.