Ethically made shoes that can take some mileage, and a gift to an organization that works around the world to "build health systems in solidarity, not charity."
Foldable sunglasses that can be stashed in a pocket, and the gift of clear sight.
A parka made by a climate-positive company, and a gift to communities on the frontlines of climate change.
Reflector badges plus a vest to stay seen, and a gift to shelter those unfairly made vulnerable by visibility.
Ceramic travel mugs for hot drinks on the go, and a gift to pottery workshop creating paid work for formerly incarcerated folks.
A gentle guidebook on walking as meditation, and a gift that supports mental wellness.
A box of the most delicious pretzels for post-walk snacks, and a gift that keeps food on the table.
A solar-powered light to brighten dark paths, and a gift to support the shift to solar power.
A bandana to encourage trekking onwards and upwards, and a gift to help every kid get outdoors.
A whistle for emergencies, and a gift to help others find safety in times of crisis.
*In my family, we have a longstanding in-joke that our religious denomination is pedestrian, an identity claimed outright after a childhood experience listening to shiny-faced minister at my grandparents' Baptist church preach a sermon about the "Cadillac of Jesus" running down "the infidel." He gleefully enumerated a long and very specific list of people who would be hit, and I leaned over and asked my dad what we were. His answer? "Pedestrians."
To my mind, being a pedestrian requires walking whenever possible, observing, and being present in the world around you. Over the years, my pedestrian practice has ranged from the orthodox (five years car-free) to the casual. These days, I am strict pedestrian, walking 15,000 steps a day, while also trying to find ways to walk alongside those who need it.
