In my eleventh year of One Hour Outside, November reminded me that even the darkest days hold light – if I get out to see it.
This November marked the eleventh year of my One Hour Outside challenge, though the idea itself is older, rooted in the very simple belief that time outdoors matters most when it feels hardest to claim. Each year, after the clocks go back an hour causing the evenings to quickly draw in, I consciously recommit to spending at least sixty minutes outside every day. And invite you to join me, too.
It’s a ritual now, an annual tradition, part of my autumn. November might not seem like the obvious month to choose for a 30-day challenge based on getting outside: the days are short, the skies often heavy, and the lure of blankets and central heating is strong. But that’s exactly the reason why One Hour Outside exists. If I can find joy, resilience, and connection in November, I can carry that through the rest of the year.
This year, though, I hesitated. Grief has a way of reshaping everything, even the things that seem obvious. I wasn’t sure whether to make anything of the One Hour Outside challenge at all this year. But the more I sat with that uncertainty, the more I realised: if ever there was a time I needed the reminder that fresh air and natural light is good for me, it’s now. This year’s One Hour Outside was less about tradition and more about finding small anchors amid my loss.
Why One Hour Outside Matters
One Hour Outside has never been about chasing epic adventures. It’s about noticing the small, grounding benefits that make time spent outside feel like a gift. Sometimes it’s a woodland walk where damp leaves stick to my boots. Sometimes it’s a stolen half‑hour with a cup of tea on a bench, watching the world do its thing around me. And sometimes it is nothing more than an aimless wander through a city centre. One hour can include a run, a ramble, a pause, even a commute reframed as a chance to breathe.
Spending time outdoors in November also provides a reminder that nature doesn’t stop when the weather turns. The hedgerows are alive with birds and berries, the air moves sharply through my hair, and the sky shifts through a palette of silvers, blues, and golds. In that sense, One Hour Outside hits a reset button. It clears the fog of indoor routines, lifts my energy, and reconnects me with what the season is doing in the background.
There’s also a quiet joy in embracing November as it is. You know, without wanting to change it. No chasing summer’s ease or spring’s blossoms, but leaning into the first frosts, the early dusk, and the extra comfort of being at home afterwards. A daily habit such as this is character building, as well as a celebration: because even the darkest month holds light, if we make space to find it.
Why November, Why Now
Choosing November for my annual One Hour Outside challenge has always been deliberate. As I’ve said, it’s the month when daylight shrinks, temperatures dip, and the temptation to hibernate indoors grows stronger. In many ways, it’s the hardest time of year to commit to being outside – which is exactly why it matters most.
But this year, November carried that additional weight. Grief made the days feel even heavier, the nights even longer, and the pull of inertia even stronger. My own version of One Hour Outside wasn’t about proving something to anyone, but was about gently holding space to notice the world beyond my own understanding of it.
I know I’ve preached this for years, but there really is something healing in the act of stepping outside, even (especially) when it feels like effort. I know that going for a walk or having a cup of tea sat on top of a hill isn’t going to change the reality in which I now find myself. But giving my body that fresh air and natural light, along with a bit of movement and some nature‑filled views, do go some way to lifting the fog and reminding me that life continues, even when I’m struggling. Those small acts of presence help me reconnect with myself, however fleetingly. Even in loss, the outdoors can work wonders for the soul and spirit.
My November One Hour Outsides
So here I am, eleven years on, still walking, still pausing, still finding my way through November one hour at a time. And if ever there was a year to honour the challenge, it’s this one.
Let me tell you how I spent my One Hour Outside‑filled November. It was a month stitched together with mini adventures, small routines, and everything in between – proof that outdoor time can be both extraordinary and ordinary, and still matter just the same.
Big Walks and Small Anchors
One of the standout days was a hike through the Sirhowy Valley with my friend Emma (more on that here). Autumn was in full force: the ground slick with rain, leaves clinging to our boots, and the air carrying that damp, earthy scent only November can conjure. We covered nine miles – far more than the hour the challenge asks for – and it reminded me that sometimes ‘more is better’, especially when the landscape slows you down with its beauty.
Not every One Hour Outside was anything like an adventure, though. Much of the month was stitched together with pre-work or lunchtime walks from home or the office, my default when time was tight. And this is what the challenge is about in reality. These familiar routes and routines are always good for me. Even on dreary days, stepping outside gave me a regular reset, a chance to breathe, and a reminder that the challenge thrives on consistency as much as novelty. Errand walks counted too: popping to the shops, posting parcels, weaving fresh air into the everyday.
Nostalgia, Friendship, and Community
There were moments of nostalgia, like wandering around my old hometown of Lincoln. I met friends for coffee but also noticed what had changed in the eight years since I moved away eight-ish years ago. The streets felt both familiar and altered, a reminder of how places evolve even when our memories hold them still.
Friendship shaped other hours too. A day in Chester meant drifting in and out of charity shops and eateries, enjoying the flow of conversation and the simple pleasure of exploring a city on foot. Later, at the Gloucester Christmas Market, I mooched between stalls, ate a toasted sandwich from my favourite spot, and greeted the Welsh Cake man who had ‘un‑retired’ to keep serving his treats. That small encounter felt like the essence of community – outdoor time often comes with human connection.
Coastlines, Quirks, and Festive Finales
The coast called me twice. At Chapel Point, I walked alone to the North Sea Observatory and on to the Sound Tower, the sea air sharp and bracing. A different kind of joy came at Skegness, where family joined me for beach time, fish and chips, and seaside doughnuts. The contrast between solitary reflection and noisy seaside fun captured the breadth of what One Hour Outside can be.
Then there was my quirky stay in a helicopter turned glamping pod. Booking it felt like a risk as November isn’t the obvious month for glamping. But the challenge nudged me to say yes. Wrapped up against the chill, I spent plenty of time outside around the pod, proving that adventure can be found in unexpected and unusual places. More on that in my next quirky stay journal.
Closer to home, the Christmas lights switch‑on in my village offered another kind of outdoor joy. I’ll admit, I mostly went for the doughnuts (though the Skegness ones were better and cheaper), but standing among neighbours as the lights flicked on was a reminder that outdoor time doesn’t always need a trail or a landmark. Sometimes it’s about showing up, sharing a moment, and letting the season unfold.
And finally, to round off the month, I spent Sunday in Birmingham, wandering and mooching around the famous Frankfurt Christmas Market. The city was buzzing with festive energy: rows of wooden stalls, the scent of mulled wine and bratwurst drifting through the air, and the hum of people enjoying time together. It was one of those days where the simple act of being outside, immersed in the season, felt like a celebration in itself – the perfect finale to a month of One Hour Outside.
Reflections at the End of November
Looking back over this month, I’m reminded why I began the One Hour Outside challenge all those years ago. November can be difficult thanks to short days, damp weather, and the pull of staying indoors – but it’s also a season that rewards those who step out into it. Each hour outside has been good for my body, mind, and soul: stretching my legs on muddy trails, clearing my head with lunchtime walks, and finding joy in small things like seaside doughnuts or twinkling lights.
The challenge has never been about going big. It’s about weaving outdoor time into the everyday, proving that errands, commutes, and casual wanders all count. This year, amid my grief, those hours became anchors. They reminded me that even when life feels uncertain, the rhythm of nature continues; trees shed their leaves, rain and frost alternate, berries get eaten, the sky changes colour. That continuity is healing.
And while November gives the challenge its name, the truth is that One Hour Outside is for every day, not just one month a year. I’ll be carrying on into December and beyond, because the benefits don’t stop when the calendar turns. Fresh air, daylight, and connection are things we all need, all year round.
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