Tins to know as Ghana begin cholera vaccination afta 50 pipo die across di kontri
So far at least five out of di kontris 16 regions of Ghana don confam cases of cholera as hospitals dey struggle to deal wit di outbreak.
Many oda pipio bin dey on admission.
Data from di health service and ministry of health don show say for di greater Accra, Eastern, Central, Ashanti and Western regions na di regions wey don record cases.
Dr Denis Laryea wia be oga in charge of disease surveillance don tok say "pipo bin dey die sake of many pipo wia get di disease try to self-medicate, wia odas bin dey report to di hospital three to four days afta di infection."
Na so dem begin to vaccinate pipo for di greater Accra region between 14 -17 February 2025 as im be di region wit di most cases - more than 200 out of di 6,000 cases across di kontri.
Di western and central regions also gat plenty cases.
For three days, di Ghana health service say dem dey target 300,000 pipo for dis vaccination for Accra.
Di areas for dis vaccination na di Ablekuma south, Okaikwei south and ashiedu keteke, all for di greater Accra region.
Who qualify for dis vaccination
Di health service say di oral cholera vaccine (OCV) na for every body wey be one year and above.
Dem also tok say di vaccine dey safe and effective
"Make una look for your area for di vaccination team, and take di vaccine to protect yourserf," di health service tok.
Di world health organisation don tok say cholera na "highly contagious illness wia be global health threat. If dem no treat am, cholera fit to lead to death," country director for di WHO Frank Lule tok.
For dis round of vaccination, di GHS say dem go do house-to-house and target districts wey be hotspots.
Symptoms of cholera
Di Ministry of health bin dey educate pipo since last year ova di illness.
Dem tok say to know say di sickness una dey see na cholera, di patient go get
- diarrhoea (wen pipo go dey poopoo water water)
- Vomitting
- Patients go dey thirsty, tired and weak
- Loss of body fluids wia fit lead to death
Cholera dey spread by flies, water and food.
E dey transfer from faecal matter to pesin mouth.
If pesin drink water and food wey contaminate, im fit sick of cholera
How to prevent cholera
According to di health service
- pipo gat to drink clean water
- Wash your hands with soap and running water
- Wash fruits and vegetables well well
- Practise good hygiene
- Eat food wey hot
- Make pipo stop open defecation
- If pesin get acute diarrhoea dem gat to drink ORS quick and visit di hospital
- Pipo wia dey sell food gat to wash plates, cups, and oda tins well well
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The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
‘Too hungry to think, too weak to sit upright. Concentration slips away': the struggle to stay focused as an academic in Gaza
I must admit: I write this piece while starving – too hungry to think clearly, too weak to sit upright for long. I do not feel ashamed because my starvation is deliberate. I refuse my hunger even as it decays me. I can survive no other way. Since 2 March 2025, Israel has imposed a full blockade on Gaza. Little aid – food, medicine, fuel – is getting in or being distributed. The markets are empty and bakeries, community kitchens and fuel stations are shuttered. On 27 July, the World Health Organization confirmed 74 deaths from 'malnutrition' in Gaza this year – 63 of them in July. Among the dead are 24 children under the age of five and one older child. Starvation is avalanching, nearly unstoppable. A trickle of aid was dropped. The humanitarian agency Médecins Sans Frontières has called these airdrops 'notoriously ineffective and dangerous'. The distribution points of US and Israeli-backed Gaza Humanitarian Foundation have been denounced as 'death traps', the UN warning that the system violates humanitarian principles and has cost more lives than it has saved. Famine is no longer a threat – it is here. Some days, my stomach cramps as I try to revise a single paragraph. My fingers feel dry and achy, parched from lack of fluids. Hunger is loud. I read, but hunger is shouting in my ear. I write, but the maw snaps with every keystroke. And when I try to still myself, to think in the meagre pleasures of drone-infused quiet, my mind floats: what rabbit hole could I be down if I were in a library? Oh, for a coffee in between articles. A sandwich in between sentences. A snack alongside a lazy perusal of the latest issue of TESOL Quarterly. I wonder: how can I keep my mind sharp when my body has gone so thin and dehydrated? The hunger starts with a rumble, and it spreads so quickly. My legs barely carry me to the nearest internet cafe. There, I try to keep up with work and commitments, charge my devices, and catch a brief connection to the outside world. But with a heavy laptop bag on my shoulder, the journey feels less like a short walk and more like crossing a desert. Some days, survival comes down to a single sachet of Plumpy'Nut, a peanut-based nutrient paste usually distributed for free in famine zones, but here sold for about $3.50, a price many can no longer afford. If you are more fortunate, you might buy a few overpriced fortified biscuits. But the problem is not just paying for food. It is about accessing money in the first place. With every bank in Gaza damaged and not a single functioning ATM left, cash has become both scarce and essential. Online transactions, or Eftpos, are not common here – almost all purchases depend on cash. After nearly two years of war, banknotes are torn and worn, and often rejected in shops. Getting money from your own account can be exploitative: withdrawing through an informal money exchange outside standard bank processes can cost up to 50% in commission. This deeply contradicts the spirit of Gaza – known for its generosity, where neighbours always looked after one another, and where, for as long as many of us can remember, no one went to bed hungry if someone else had food to share. That spirit has not vanished. People still share what little they have. But the scale of deprivation has grown so severe that even the most generous hands are now often empty. Families go to bed hungry and wake up hungry. One day in particular, I had been working nonstop, pushing through dizziness and exhaustion. By the time I reached the stairs to my apartment, my legs were barely holding me up. My blood sugar had crashed. I collapsed just as I reached my bedroom. I was rushed to the nearest GP, where I was given an IV [intravenous fluids] to stabilise me. The next morning, I was back at work. Not because I had recovered, but because I felt I could not afford to stop. There were interviews to conduct and transcribe, students to support, messages that needed to be sent. The urgency to bear witness outweighed the need to rest. This is not about ego. It is about refusing to disappear. About resisting the slow erasure that comes with war and famine. About insisting that our thoughts and our work continue, even when it must be done in the ruins. In Gaza, to be an academic today is to refuse to be reduced to a statistic. There are days when continuing feels impossible. The body simply gives out. Reading leaves me light-headed. Concentration slips away. Teaching becomes a battle to remain coherent. And beyond the physical toll, there is another erosion – of identity. As scholars, we are meant to cultivate emancipatory and liberatory thinking among our students. But when our daily realities are hunger, grief and displacement, we begin to question whether we are still fulfilling that role. What does it mean to be a scholar when the conditions needed to think, teach and create are stripped away? What does academic freedom mean when intellectual, political and pedagogical freedom is restricted by siege? What does it mean to mentor youth towards critical inquiry when we ourselves are battling to stay upright? These questions linger, not as abstract concerns but as lived tensions. Still, we carry on. Because to stop would be to relinquish one of the last remnants of our agency. I often find myself caught between two difficult choices in the classroom: either avoid discussing the crisis, fearing retraumatising my students; or confront it directly, opening space for collective reflection. Both paths are fraught, yet driven by the same hope – to use education not only to inform, but to liberate in helping students believe their voices still matter. Sign up to Global Dispatch Get a different world view with a roundup of the best news, features and pictures, curated by our global development team after newsletter promotion The work goes on. Research calls. Project check-ins. Webinars. Recorded lectures. Training sessions, though they must often pause. This is our reality. Still, we show up: attending classes, writing proposals, giving talks, joining conferences, publishing. Not because we are strong or brave, but because we believe in the transformative power of education. And because to stop would be to give in to silence. Yet, the most basic truth remains difficult to say aloud: we are hungry. Not by accident, but by design. When did naming that become taboo? For days, split lentils have been my only meal. Finding flour is a scavenger hunt. And when we do manage to gather ingredients, baking over an open fire is exhausting, physically and emotionally. We burn wood from broken furniture to make bread. Used notebooks and scrap paper become fuel; otherwise, we must buy wood just to finish the job. This is not just about hunger. It is about being forced to fight for survival in silence. Lighting a fire is a daunting challenge. Matches have run out. Lighters are nearly impossible to replace – and when one is available, it can be prohibitively expensive. Those who still have a working lighter refill it cautiously with small amounts of gas. In many cases, families or neighbours share a single flame, passing it from household to household – another quiet act of solidarity and enduring spirit. So we keep documenting. Not out of heroism, but to remain present. Because behind every report, every footnote, every lecture lies a deeper truth: knowledge is still being produced in Gaza. Even now. Especially now. What does solidarity mean when some of us must think, teach and work while starving? What does inclusion mean when access to food, water and safety determines who gets to take part? This is not a call for charity. It is a call to face an uncomfortable truth: solidarity is meaningless if it does not name – and challenge – the systems that keep people excluded while they struggle to survive under siege, occupation and deliberate deprivation. True solidarity means asking hard questions: Who gets to speak? Who is heard? Who can keep learning and imagining a future when bombs fall and hunger bites? Solidarity means changing the way the world works with those in crisis: adapting deadlines, waiving fees, opening access to books and journals, and making space for voices from Gaza and beyond – not as victims but as equal partners. It means understanding that grief, hunger and destroyed infrastructure are not 'disruptions' to work – they are our current conditions of life. To generate knowledge in the context of hunger is to think through pain. To teach students who have not eaten and still tell them their voices matter. To insist, against all odds, that Gaza still thinks, still questions, still creates. That, in itself, is an act of resistance. Ahmed Kamal Junina is an assistant professor of applied linguistics and head of the English department at Al-Aqsa University in Gaza and a fellow at Bristol University's Centre for Comparative and International Research in Education
The Guardian
a day ago
- The Guardian
‘Too hungry to think, too weak to sit upright. Concentration slips away': the struggle to stay focussed as an academic in Gaza
I must admit: I write this piece while starving – too hungry to think clearly, too weak to sit upright for long. I do not feel ashamed because my starvation is deliberate. I refuse my hunger even as it decays me. I can survive no other way. Since 2 March 2025, Israel has imposed a full blockade on Gaza. Little aid – food, medicine, fuel – is getting in or being distributed. The markets are empty and bakeries, community kitchens and fuel stations are shuttered. On 27 July, the World Health Organization confirmed 74 deaths from 'malnutrition' in Gaza this year – 63 of them in July. Among the dead are 24 children under the age of five and one older child. Starvation is avalanching, nearly unstoppable. A trickle of aid was dropped. The humanitarian agency Médecins Sans Frontières has called these airdrops 'notoriously ineffective and dangerous'. The distribution points of US and Israeli-backed Gaza Humanitarian Foundation have been denounced as 'death traps', the UN warning that the system violates humanitarian principles and has cost more lives than it has saved. Famine is no longer a threat – it is here. Some days, my stomach cramps as I try to revise a single paragraph. My fingers feel dry and achy, parched from lack of fluids. Hunger is loud. I read, but hunger is shouting in my ear. I write, but the maw snaps with every keystroke. And when I try to still myself, to think in the meagre pleasures of drone-infused quiet, my mind floats: what rabbit hole could I be down if I were in a library? Oh, for a coffee in between articles. A sandwich in between sentences. A snack alongside a lazy perusal of the latest issue of TESOL Quarterly. I wonder: how can I keep my mind sharp when my body has gone so thin and dehydrated? The hunger starts with a rumble, and it spreads so quickly. My legs barely carry me to the nearest internet cafe. There, I try to keep up with work and commitments, charge my devices, and catch a brief connection to the outside world. But with a heavy laptop bag on my shoulder, the journey feels less like a short walk and more like crossing a desert. Some days, survival comes down to a single sachet of Plumpy'Nut, a peanut-based nutrient paste usually distributed for free in famine zones, but here sold for about $3.50, a price many can no longer afford. If you are more fortunate, you might buy a few overpriced fortified biscuits. But the problem is not just paying for food. It is about accessing money in the first place. With every bank in Gaza damaged and not a single functioning ATM left, cash has become both scarce and essential. Online transactions, or Eftpos, are not common here – almost all purchases depend on cash. After nearly two years of war, banknotes are torn and worn, and often rejected in shops. Getting money from your own account can be exploitative: withdrawing through an informal money exchange outside standard bank processes can cost up to 50% in commission. This deeply contradicts the spirit of Gaza – known for its generosity, where neighbours always looked after one another, and where, for as long as many of us can remember, no one went to bed hungry if someone else had food to share. That spirit has not vanished. People still share what little they have. But the scale of deprivation has grown so severe that even the most generous hands are now often empty. Families go to bed hungry and wake up hungry. One day in particular, I had been working nonstop, pushing through dizziness and exhaustion. By the time I reached the stairs to my apartment, my legs were barely holding me up. My blood sugar had crashed. I collapsed just as I reached my bedroom. I was rushed to the nearest GP, where I was given an IV [intravenous fluids] to stabilise me. The next morning, I was back at work. Not because I had recovered, but because I felt I could not afford to stop. There were interviews to conduct and transcribe, students to support, messages that needed to be sent. The urgency to bear witness outweighed the need to rest. This is not about ego. It is about refusing to disappear. About resisting the slow erasure that comes with war and famine. About insisting that our thoughts and our work continue, even when it must be done in the ruins. In Gaza, to be an academic today is to refuse to be reduced to a statistic. There are days when continuing feels impossible. The body simply gives out. Reading leaves me light-headed. Concentration slips away. Teaching becomes a battle to remain coherent. And beyond the physical toll, there is another erosion – of identity. As scholars, we are meant to cultivate emancipatory and liberatory thinking among our students. But when our daily realities are hunger, grief and displacement, we begin to question whether we are still fulfilling that role. What does it mean to be a scholar when the conditions needed to think, teach and create are stripped away? What does academic freedom mean when intellectual, political and pedagogical freedom is restricted by siege? What does it mean to mentor youth towards critical inquiry when we ourselves are battling to stay upright? These questions linger, not as abstract concerns but as lived tensions. Still, we carry on. Because to stop would be to relinquish one of the last remnants of our agency. Sign up to Global Dispatch Get a different world view with a roundup of the best news, features and pictures, curated by our global development team after newsletter promotion I often find myself caught between two difficult choices in the classroom: either avoid discussing the crisis, fearing retraumatising my students; or confront it directly, opening space for collective reflection. Both paths are fraught, yet driven by the same hope – to use education not only to inform, but to liberate in helping students believe their voices still matter. The work goes on. Research calls. Project check-ins. Webinars. Recorded lectures. Training sessions, though they must often pause. This is our reality. Still, we show up: attending classes, writing proposals, giving talks, joining conferences, publishing. Not because we are strong or brave, but because we believe in the transformative power of education. And because to stop would be to give in to silence. Yet, the most basic truth remains difficult to say aloud: we are hungry. Not by accident, but by design. When did naming that become taboo? For days, split lentils have been my only meal. Finding flour is a scavenger hunt. And when we do manage to gather ingredients, baking over an open fire is exhausting, physically and emotionally. We burn wood from broken furniture to make bread. Used notebooks and scrap paper become fuel; otherwise, we must buy wood just to finish the job. This is not just about hunger. It is about being forced to fight for survival in silence. Lighting a fire is a daunting challenge. Matches have run out. Lighters are nearly impossible to replace – and when one is available, it can be prohibitively expensive. Those who still have a working lighter refill it cautiously with small amounts of gas. In many cases, families or neighbours share a single flame, passing it from household to household – another quiet act of solidarity and enduring spirit. So we keep documenting. Not out of heroism, but to remain present. Because behind every report, every footnote, every lecture lies a deeper truth: knowledge is still being produced in Gaza. Even now. Especially now. What does solidarity mean when some of us must think, teach and work while starving? What does inclusion mean when access to food, water and safety determines who gets to take part? This is not a call for charity. It is a call to face an uncomfortable truth: solidarity is meaningless if it does not name – and challenge – the systems that keep people excluded while they struggle to survive under siege, occupation and deliberate deprivation. True solidarity means asking hard questions: Who gets to speak? Who is heard? Who can keep learning and imagining a future when bombs fall and hunger bites? Solidarity means changing the way the world works with those in crisis: adapting deadlines, waiving fees, opening access to books and journals, and making space for voices from Gaza and beyond – not as victims but as equal partners. It means understanding that grief, hunger and destroyed infrastructure are not 'disruptions' to work – they are our current conditions of life. To generate knowledge in the context of hunger is to think through pain. To teach students who have not eaten and still tell them their voices matter. To insist, against all odds, that Gaza still thinks, still questions, still creates. That, in itself, is an act of resistance. Ahmed Kamal Junina is an assistant professor of applied linguistics and head of the English department at Al-Aqsa University in Gaza and a fellow at Bristol University's Centre for Comparative and International Research in Education
The Independent
2 days ago
- The Independent
Walking is ‘the perfect exercise' – new research reveals you need less than 10,000 steps per day for most benefits
This statement might sound ridiculous, but walking is in vogue right now; not as a means of getting from A to B, but as a vehicle for improving your health. As a fitness writer and coach, I'm happy this is the case. Almost one in three people are failing to meet the World Health Organisation's (WHO) physical activity guidelines, according to a large-scale study published in The Lancet last year. Walking is one of the most effective ways to combat this. 'In the past, researchers and clinicians have described walking as 'the perfect exercise', and based on the body of evidence that has accumulated over the past few years, this is now truer than ever before,' says Dr Elroy Aguiar, an associate professor of exercise science at The University of Alabama. 'It is easy to perform, has a low barrier to entry and can elicit the full range of intensity, from light to moderate to vigorous, by simply adjusting your pace.' But how much do you need to walk to benefit your health? Previous studies have focused heavily on the number of steps required to reduce all-cause mortality. But, while this is a desirable outcome, it isn't the most relatable metric – few people are scribbling 'reduce all-cause mortality' among their fitness goals. Another study, also published in The Lancet, recognised this, so researchers set out to 'synthesise the prospective dose-response relationship between daily steps and health outcomes including all-cause mortality, cardiovascular disease, cancer, type 2 diabetes, cognitive outcomes, mental health outcomes, physical function and falls'. In layman's terms: how many daily steps are needed to see benefits in each of these areas? Here are the results, and how you can apply these findings to improve your health. 10-second takeaway The latest research suggests that walking 7,000 steps per day can significantly reduce your risk of cardiovascular disease, cancer mortality, type 2 diabetes, dementia, depressive symptoms and falls. All movement counts towards improved health, with a separate study finding 'as few as about 2,600 and about 2,800 steps per day yield significant mortality and cardiovascular disease benefits, respectively'. The optimal combination [of weekly movement] comes from maintaining a solid baseline level of step-related movement plus a brief amount [21 minutes or more] of moderate-to-vigorous intensity physical activity per day,' Aguiar says. This includes two full-body muscle-strengthening sessions each week, as per the WHO guidelines. How many steps do you need to take per day to improve your health? Unless you've been living under a rock, you'll be familiar with walking 10,000 steps per day as a fitness goal. You will also likely know by now that this figure originated from a 1960s marketing campaign for a Japanese pedometer called the 'manpo kei' – roughly translated as '10,000 steps metre'. The number 10,000 is satisfyingly round and easily marketable, but it has no solid scientific basis. However, its adoption as a default daily goal by many popular fitness trackers saw it become an unofficial holy grail for health in some circles. In 2023, a study by the University of Granada challenged this notion, finding that the number of steps you need to take per day 'to significantly reduce the risk of premature death' is 8,000, while 'if we focus on the risk of dying from cardiovascular disease, most of the benefits are seen at around 7,000 steps'. The latest research in The Lancet – a systematic review and meta-analysis of existing scientific literature – aimed to identify how many daily steps are needed to achieve a broader range of health outcomes. Despite its wider scope, it settled on a similar conclusion. 'For all-cause mortality, cardiovascular disease incidence, dementia and falls, an inverse non-linear dose-response association was found, with inflection points at around 5,000-7,000 steps per day,' it states. In other words: the more steps you take, the less likely you are to fall foul of these outcomes. This still applies when walking more than 5,000-7,000 steps per day, but there are diminishing returns. 'An inverse linear association was found for cardiovascular disease mortality, cancer incidence, cancer mortality, type 2 diabetes incidence and depressive symptoms,' the report continues. It found that, compared with walking 2,000 steps per day, 7,000 steps per day was associated with: 47 per cent lower risk of all-cause mortality. 25 per cent lower risk of cardiovascular disease incidence. 47 per cent lower risk of cardiovascular disease mortality. 6 per cent lower risk of cancer incidence. 37 per cent lower risk of cancer mortality. 14 per cent lower risk of type 2 diabetes. 38 per cent lower risk of dementia. 22 per cent lower risk of depressive symptoms. 28 per cent lower risk of falls. Researchers concluded: 'Although 10,000 steps per day can still be a viable target for those who are more active, 7,000 steps per day is associated with clinically meaningful improvements in health outcomes and might be a more realistic and achievable target for some.' But, they add, the study should be interpreted 'in light of its limitations'; the small number of studies available for most outcomes, a lack of age-specific analysis and biases at the individual study level. Can you build fitness from walking alone? Walking has previously been dismissed by some as lacking the intensity needed to generate tangible health benefits for the masses. But this latest research shows it to be 'meaningful movement that can improve a wide range of health outcomes', says Aguiar. This is particularly true for those currently leading a sedentary lifestyle – the move from zero exercise to even a small amount of daily movement will likely have a dramatic effect. But is walking alone enough to represent a comprehensive fitness plan? The WHO's physical activity guidelines, mirrored by the NHS, recommend adults do 'at least 150 minutes of moderate-intensity activity per week, 75 minutes of vigorous-intensity activity, or an equivalent combination of the two'. The NHS also says adults should aim to 'do strengthening activities that work all the major muscle groups – legs, hips, back, abdomen, chest, shoulders and arms – at least two days a week'. Moderate-intensity exercise is any activity that raises your heart rate and quickens your breathing, but isn't so intense that you can't hold a conversation – in the context of walking, this has been equated to a brisk pace, or a cadence of around 110 steps per minute. As an experiment, I went for a 30-minute walk under these conditions and racked up a little over 3,000 steps. If I did this daily, I would surpass the WHO's weekly physical activity guidelines and could potentially hit The Lancet review's suggested target of 7,000 steps per day, when incidental daily movement was considered. But ideally, there would also be some form of formal exercise in my weekly routine, Aguiar tells me. 'To meet physical activity guidelines, you need to perform about 21 minutes of moderate-to-vigorous physical activity – roughly 1.5 per cent of the day,' he explains. 'But what about the remaining 98.5 per cent, or 23.6 hours, in the day? Is it OK to do 21 minutes of exercise, then sit or sleep for the remainder? 'While the evidence is not clear on this just yet, it's reasonable to say that we need to be moving throughout the day and avoiding prolonged sedentary time, which is independently known to be harmful.' He describes walking as 'the base of the physical activity pyramid'. Formal exercise is just the tip of the iceberg, while walking accounts for most of your wider daily movement. 'The optimal combination comes from maintaining a solid baseline level of step-related movement plus a brief amount of moderate-to-vigorous intensity physical activity per day,' Aguiar adds. 'It is likely that future iterations of physical activity guidelines by the WHO and individual countries will feature a steps per day target. Importantly, a daily target should not be viewed as a replacement for the current guidelines, but rather it should be viewed as complementary, so it's a both/and scenario.' How to set a suitable daily step goal If you can fit a 30-minute walk into each day, excellent. If you can do two full-body strength training sessions per week on top of this, even better. And if you can gradually introduce some added intensity into a few of your weekly workouts, be that through running, swimming, cycling, HIIT or any other means, you're well on your way to a comprehensive exercise plan. But this isn't always an option. One possible reason why a growing number of people are insufficiently active is that 21st-century living is rather busy. If you struggle to include movement in your day, 7,000 steps is likely to sound like a metaphorical mountain to climb. But, to quote the WHO, 'all physical activity counts', and any extra exercise you can crowbar into your week will still have a positive effect on your health. A 2023 study published in the Journal of the American College of Cardiology found that 'as few as about 2,600 and about 2,800 steps per day yield significant mortality and cardiovascular disease benefits, with progressive risk reductions up to about 8,800 and about 7,200 steps per day, respectively'. In short, more movement is better, but a little can still have an impressive positive impact on your health. To reap the benefits of bite-sized exercise options, try the two tips below: Exercise 'snacking': The stereotypical workout lasts an hour, but given all movement matters for your health, it makes sense to squeeze some exercise in whenever you can – especially if you have a hectic schedule. This is called exercise snacking, and it could be anything from stretching at your desk to doing a few squats while brushing your teeth – our handy exercise 'snacking' guide can help you get started. If you want to up your daily step count using this method, you can implement it by parking slightly further away from the supermarket, getting off the bus before your usual stop or swapping the escalator for the stairs where possible. You can also inject some extra intensity into your walks by tackling a hill or upping the pace, as research has linked a higher walking cadence (the number of steps taken per minute) with improved health benefits – you can find out more about this by following the link below. Set achievable goals: People tend to set lofty fitness goals then lose motivation when they fall short. For example, aiming to walk 7,000 steps per day when they currently average 2,000, or going from zero weekly workouts to five. Instead, start small and work your way up – the feel-good hit of achieving these manageable goals can be a powerful stimulus for sticking with an exercise plan. In the case of walking, take a look at your current average daily steps per day via the health app on your phone or a fitness tracker. Divide it by five or 10, then add that figure to your average and try to hit this slightly higher target each day for the next couple of weeks. When this starts to feel easy, repeat the process, slowly taking yourself towards 7,000 steps per day. Why is walking 'the perfect exercise'? Walking is brilliant, but it's by no means magic. I would just as readily recommend other forms of exercise – strength training being premier among them, thanks to its body-strengthening benefits – to those able to access them. The problem is, for various reasons from physical limitations to opportunity, many people are unable to access other forms of exercise. Walking is one of the easiest, most accessible ways people can improve the amount they move and enjoy the many health benefits of doing so, making it a great way to supplement your weekly exercise plans. But if you swap your walk for a cycle and fall short of your daily step goal as a result, this isn't something to get hung up on. Your body has still enjoyed a workout, and your heart and lungs are likely to enjoy a similar stimulus from the two activities – all movement counts. The trick is to find an individualised approach that makes you feel good and allows consistent movement to become a habitual part of your life.
