Walking suffers precisely because it is pedestrian. When it is necessary, like between mall entrance and some distant parking spot, it is loathed. Walking for regular transportation can be good, unless one is late for something—then it becomes a frustrating slalom. Walking for pleasure is fraught, most notably demonstrated by the classic long walk on the beach; few things murder romance like a forced shoreline march through hot sand and stinging salt. Successful walks often have an ulterior aspect: dogs, farmer’s markets, window shopping—these diversions fill in the gaps when a walk’s pleasure might be conspicuously thin. And then there is the least appreciated aspect of walking: exercise.

Naturally, running gets all the exercise credit. In fact, when walking is explicitly identified as exercise things quickly go awry; speed-walking, however challenging its practitioners claim, is as silly as slow-running. Conversely, when left vague, as it was on an invitation to a charity walk I attended several years ago, walking is still misunderstood. It was late autumn in a leafy suburb, and, for once, the weather was seasonably correct—cool, billowy white clouds, a crisp breeze. I dressed as I would for a walk at home: whipcord trousers, shirt, lightweight knit. I took along a tweed jacket as there was a lunch scheduled following the walk. Well, I was way off. Apparently, a charity walk is a near cousin to the charity run, and the expected costume is high-performance exercise gear. The pace was my ordinary one, and the distance, three miles or so, not unusual. I had to lend an underdressed girl my tweed as it clouded over and became chilly. It didn’t matter; the walk had the veneer of exercise, and that trumps common sense.

Why must walking be sped-up or accompanied by specialized equipment to count? I’ll offer a shaky theory: walking doesn’t register as exercise when compared to the current fad for intense and extreme fitness. I have friends who wake at dawn to execute punishing routines under the tutelage of former commandos. Others are perpetually in training; for what it’s rarely clear. Still others compete in gimmicky obstacle course events where mild electrocution is part of the fun. I don’t begrudge this movement; obviously some of the appeal is in the spectacle. But I do question the effectiveness of fitness that isn’t sustainable; for every friend who has taken up some intense new regimen, another, having abandoned his, asks me how I stay fit. My answer always disappoints: moderation.

Walking might be a moderate exercise, but some care is needed in doing it correctly. Posture is crucial: pelvis, shoulders and head should be vertically aligned. When posture is mentioned, the immediate reaction is to sweep the shoulders dramatically back and jut the chin forward. That’s standing at attention, and not correct for walking. Imagine, instead, a thin chain attached to the crown of the skull; if someone were to gently pull taught this chain the result would be good posture. Two more mistakes lurk. The natural tendency when walking with purpose is to lean forward, as if late for an appointment; when merely strolling, the tendency is to lean back, resting weight on the lower back. Both should be avoided when walking for exercise; a neutral position with a moderate stride must be established and kept to for the duration. I challenge those who remain skeptical of this sort of moderate exercise to concentrate on posture for a three mile walk.

Clothes are the final barrier for most. Putting on workout gear must trigger something in the brain—a sort of mental preparation for battle with the elliptical. But getting geared up for a good walk undermines moderation. Choose, instead, clothes that take sport as a prefix—those durable odd trousers, jackets and pullovers traditionally intended for leisure. Other suggestions… Dressing in layers sounds sensible, but I always wonder what to do with the peeled articles. Jackets that can be buttoned and unbuttoned or have other convertible features are ideal. Shoes should be sturdy; loafers are for loafing, not walking. I prefer a hat to an umbrella when raining as a good walk requires swinging of arms. For the same reason gloves are essential in the cold; jamming frozen hands into the pockets upsets the rhythm and balance of a good walk. The sum often looks like something I might wear for lunch at a casual restaurant. Which is perfect, as serious walking works up an awful appetite.