Teresa Lee will be the death of me. She’s not a serial killer, but a serial walker. Her purpose in life, it seems, is to walk far, walk often and surreptitiously remind me that I trail behind this formidable Singaporean woman.
Ms Lee is currently rewriting that famous lyric by The Beatles. Paul McCartney once sang, ‘will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64?’ Ms Lee is walking 100km and making me feel needy when she really is 64.
I am not 64. I am a younger Wile E. Coyote, failing to catch a 64-year-old beeping Road Runner every year.
And Ms Lee does beep, too. She beeps these strange sounds of constant positivity. She smiles and waves as we participate in the annual Let’s Take a Walk charity initiative, raising funds for deserving causes, i.e. middle-aged ang mohs who can’t keep up with Singaporean aunties. (I’m kidding, of course. I’d never dare call Ms Lee an auntie. She’d easily catch me.)
Three years ago, I participated in the 20km walk, pounding Singapore’s coastal streets at dawn and generally feeling self-satisfied, until blisters intervened near Bedok Reservoir and I bumped into that infernal woman. An insecure mind plays tricks, but I’m pretty sure our conversation went something like this…
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Image courtesy of Neil Humphreys
Patronising Me: “Hello, auntie. Are you OK? You’re doing 20km? All by yourself? Do you need to sit down?”
Smiling Ms Lee: “Actually, I’m doing 100km.”
Humbled Me: “Really? I think I need to sit down.”
Smiling Ms Lee: “Sore feet?”
Humbled Me: “No, sore ego.”
Smiling Ms Lee: “Do you need some help to the finish line?”
Humbled Me: “A little. The blister on my big toe is starting to throb.”
Smiling Ms Lee: “Come on then, you big baby ang moh. I’ve walked 95km so far and I’m 15 years older than you. But, no, let’s hear all about your blister again.”
Of course, Ms Lee didn’t say that the last bit. That was the voice screaming in my head for the rest of the charity walk. In my defence, it was a rather large blister. I had to limp and everything.
In the end, we crossed the line together. Ms Lee had completed her overnight walk of 100km. I had finished 20km. She sincerely congratulated me on my fine effort. I retired to a quiet corner to punch myself in the face.
But our paths would not cross again, surely, which would allow a steady restoration of my fragile ego, right? Not a chance. Ms Lee follows me from one charity walk to another like Banquo’s ghost, knocking off 100km walks before waiting for me at the finish line to probe my insecurities.
Look at the photograph that accompanies this column. That’s me after my latest 10km effort in early November. That’s Ms Lee after 100km – her sixth 100km walk with the Let’s Take a Walk charity. There’s a rumour that the 64-year-old allegedly broke sweat at one point, but I don’t believe a word of it.
Again, my recollections of our brief conversation are vague, but I think it went along the following lines…
Me: How are you feeling this year?
Ms Lee: Not great.
Me: Tired?
Ms Lee: No, I didn’t break my 100km personal best. Did you?
Me: Yes, I finished 10km without seeing white spots in my eyes.
Auntie walkers on the rise
And Ms Lee is not alone. Singapore’s silver citizens are turning into my mother. She walks everywhere, to a near pathological degree. I’ve often felt like my mother’s hairdresser. I’ve only ever seen the back of her head. She just walks and we follow.
It’s a growing trend in Singapore, too (walking, I mean, not following my mother. That’d be weird. Though she did once insist she was being stalked by a drinks seller at a Bedok coffee shop. She was; she hadn’t paid for her iced lemon tea.)
Thanks to the island’s outstanding park connector network, a greater appreciation for outdoor exercise after the Covid lockdowns and a growing awareness of the mental health benefits of communal activity, Singaporeans really are marching on together.
According to the Straits Times, there’s the North West Brisk Walking Club, with more than 60,000 members, most of whom are in their 60s and 70s.
On Facebook, the Singapore Walking Group has more than 11,000 members. Hikers, nature trekkers and photo walkers have also formed popular groups online. Even SilverStreak has a Jalan-Jalan Kakis community group for seniors that is for exploring different parts of Singapore through walking.
Just a casual wander along my local park connector beside Sungei Serangoon feels like that classic ‘portals’ scene in Avengers: End Game, but instead of Captain America telling his superheroes to assemble, it’s a massed gathering of aunties and uncles debating where to have nasi lemak after their group walk. It’s marvellous.
And necessary. Singapore’s ageing population remains the socio-economic elephant in the room, but a leaner, active elephant will certainly help matters.
In 2019, the Guardian published the results of a British Medical Journal report, that clearly showed the benefits of older adults reducing sedentary time with light movement. Just a gentle, daily shuffle could stave off an early death, according to the research.
According to the anecdotal research carried out at a recent charity walk around Marina Bay, Teresa Lee is going to live forever, and rightly so.
The peer-reviewed journal Current Psychology has also published a paper that suggests nature-based walking can reduce stress and potentially alleviate mental health issues, which makes sense. Stroll through Coney Island on a breezy evening and you’ll immediately want to do it more often. Stroll through the Orchard Road traffic junction near Paragon and you’ll immediately want to kill someone.
The social interaction of group walking cannot be downplayed either. While it’s always invigorating to overtake an ang moh whining about his blisters, it’s also rewarding from a mental standpoint. Social isolation brings a greater risk of conditions such as Alzheimer’s disease and dementia. So walk more. Talk more. Take part in an activity with no downsides.
Join the walking mafia of Singapore’s silver citizens. They’re coming to a park near you, right now, with inspirational folks like Teresa Lee leading the charge.
Honestly, I am honoured to forever be Wile E. Coyote to her Road Runner.
