Tiny Escapes

Before the Day Begins

Forty-five minutes outside, breakfast afterwards, and the strange pleasure of having already had a little day before the real one starts.

4 min read

Low sunlight shining through tall trees in a mossy forest.

“The walk happens before the day.”

Some weekend mornings begin with a plan.

Ours sometimes begin by deliberately not getting ready.

No shower yet. No proper outfit. No attempt to make ourselves presentable for the day.

We get dressed, put on walking shoes and go outside.

We are lucky enough to live next to the forest now, which means that on an early morning we can be among the trees before I have had time to turn the day into a list.

That is exactly how I like it.

We walk for about forty-five minutes, usually when it has only just become light and almost nobody else seems to be awake.

Then we go home.

We have breakfast together at the table.

And only after that do we shower and decide what the rest of the day is going to be.

It feels as though we have found a small piece of time that doesn't quite count.

Before everybody else gets there

The forest is different early in the morning.

Not necessarily prettier. Just quieter.

There are no crowds to avoid and very little sense that the day has properly started yet. The light comes through the trees differently. Everything feels slightly more private.

I think that is part of why I like it.

Later in the day, a walk can become an activity.

At this hour, it feels more like slipping out.

We don't need to drive anywhere. We don't need to book anything. We don't need to decide whether we have enough energy for a whole day out.

We just go.

Forty-five minutes is enough.

That matters to me, because I don't think an escape has to consume an entire day to count.

Sometimes I actively don't want it to.

A forest path seen past a mossy fallen log in the foreground.

Don't get ready first

This might be my favourite rule of this particular escape.

Don't turn it into a production.

If I decided we first needed to shower, do our hair, have breakfast and generally become fully functioning members of society, there would be far more opportunities to decide we could just go later.

Later is dangerous.

Later acquires laundry.

Later acquires errands.

Later discovers that it is suddenly eleven thirty.

So we put clothes on, lace up our walking shoes and leave.

The slightly unfinished feeling is part of it.

We are not starting the day with a walk.

The walk happens before the day.

Breakfast tastes better afterwards

Coming home is part of the escape too.

That is something I am beginning to notice about these small plans: the ending matters.

At the sea, we walk first and then go somewhere warm for lunch.

Here, we come home and have breakfast together at the table.

Nothing elaborate is required.

It is simply lovely to sit down when you have already been outside, especially when most of the morning still seems to be waiting for you.

Only then do we shower.

Only then do we decide what else we want to do.

And if the answer is not very much, that is fine too.

We have already been somewhere.

You do not need to live next to a forest

Obviously, living beside the woods makes our version ridiculously easy.

But the forest is not really the point.

The point is having somewhere you can reach quickly enough that you don't need to negotiate with yourself about going.

A park.

A quiet neighbourhood.

A canal path.

A beach.

A trail.

A loop around a lake.

Even a few streets you like when they are still empty.

The ideal place is not necessarily the most beautiful one. It is the one with so little friction that you can be outside before your brain starts proposing alternatives.

That is what makes this internationally copyable for me.

You don't need our forest.

You need your version of somewhere-before-breakfast.

A little day before the real one

I love a proper day out.

I love travelling.

I love making plans.

But I am increasingly convinced that some of the nicest moments in life happen in the margins around those things.

A walk before breakfast.

Popcorn at the cinema before lunch.

Flowers from a market when you only had an hour.

Cold sea air on a Sunday when your head was too full.

They are not substitutes for bigger experiences.

They do something different.

They stop ordinary time from becoming invisible.

On these mornings, by the time I am showered and dressed, I have already walked through the forest with Bas, watched the light come through the trees and sat down for breakfast with him.

The whole thing might have taken an hour.

The rest of the day is still there.

That feels almost like cheating.

Make this escape yours

Best for: A weekend morning when you want some quiet before plans, chores and screens take over.
Time needed: About one hour in our version: roughly forty-five minutes walking, plus however long you want for breakfast afterwards.
The formula: Get dressed without properly getting ready → go outside as the day gets light → walk somewhere close → come home → have breakfast → start the rest of the day.
What we take: Very little. Walking shoes and whatever the weather requires.
What we spend: Nothing for the walk. Breakfast is at home.
Our version: The forest beside our home, early enough that it is still very quiet.
No forest nearby?: Use a park, neighbourhood loop, canal path, beach, lake or any route close enough that going requires almost no planning.
The rule: Don't get ready first.
Would we do it again?: We already do.