4 Strategies for Speed-Walking with Saddle Sores

Last Updated on September 18, 2025 by Michael

A Survival Guide for the Tenderly Devastated

Right. So your ass hurts and you need to walk somewhere fast.

Congratulations on joining the worst club in the world. Membership benefits include creative profanity and a newfound hatred of bicycle seats designed by someone who clearly despises human anatomy.

But here’s where it gets fun: life doesn’t care about your delicate situation. That charity speed-walk you signed up for during your “new year new me” phase? It’s tomorrow. Your boss—let’s call her Karen because of course—thinks walking meetings boost creativity. Sure, Karen. You know what else they boost? The urge to fake your own death rather than explain why you’re walking like a cowboy who just discovered wasps.

You could cancel. You could also admit defeat to what is essentially an angry rash with a vendetta. But you won’t. Because humans are spectacularly stupid about commitment. So here you are, googling “how to walk when everything hurts” at 2 AM like that’s a normal thing adults do.

Fine. Let’s do this.

Strategy #1: The Cowboy Shuffle Deluxe

John Wayne walked like that for a reason, and it wasn’t method acting.

The Cowboy Shuffle Deluxe operates on one simple principle: if your thighs can’t touch, they can’t hurt each other. Revolutionary? No. Effective? Absolutely. You’re essentially turning yourself into a human wishbone that somehow has places to be. The wider your stance, the more air circulation you get. It’s basically engineering, if engineers designed solutions while crying.

Stand with your feet far enough apart that it looks medically concerning. Now try to walk. Feels wrong? Good. That means you’re doing it right. Your arms need to swing like you’re trying to generate enough momentum to achieve flight. You won’t achieve flight, but the arm movement distracts from whatever the hell your legs are doing.

You’ll cover ground at roughly 4.2 miles per hour on flat surfaces, which is faster than you’d think considering you look like someone attempting to walk while straddling an invisible exercise ball filled with regret.

Performance Metrics Nobody Asked For:

The magical part about the Cowboy Shuffle? It creates a force field of personal space. Nobody—absolutely nobody—wants to get close to someone walking like they’re auditioning for a Western while having a medical emergency. Use this power wisely.

Strategy #2: The Penguin Power Waddle

Penguins. Nature’s proof that God has a sense of humor.

They also never get saddle sores because they had the good sense not to invent bicycles. But they did perfect something useful: walking without their thighs touching. Ever. Because their thighs are in different time zones.

Lock your knees. No, tighter than that. Imagine someone’s about to hit them with a hammer and you’re trying to protect them through sheer muscle tension. Your legs are now two independent entities that happen to share a torso. They don’t communicate. They don’t coordinate. They just… exist. Separately.

Point your feet outward at angles that make yoga instructors weep. Rock from side to side. Forward progress will happen eventually, probably, through some combination of momentum and spite. You’re not walking so much as aggressively waddling toward your destination like a penguin that’s late for a job interview.

Will you look insane? Yes. Will people move out of your way? Also yes. These two facts are related.

Strategy #3: The Strategic Pause System

Walking doesn’t have to be continuous. That’s just propaganda from Big Ambulation.

Sprint for 30 seconds like you just saw your ex at Target. Then stop. Dead stop. Find the nearest vertical surface and lean against it like it’s the only thing keeping you alive (it might be). Pull out your phone. Stare at it with the intensity of someone reading their own obituary. This isn’t deception—this is method acting for survival.

Every pause sells a story: You’re busy. You’re important. You’re definitely not dying from the waist down.

Sprint again. This time for 25 seconds because you’re not a machine. Stop at a bench. Sit down and pretend to tie your shoes even though they’re slip-ons. Stand up with the confidence of someone who just solved world hunger. Sprint again. Stop to read a “Lost Cat” poster like it contains the secrets of the universe. That cat’s been missing since 2019 but you need this break.

Pause Activity Rankings:

• Checking phone aggressively: 10/10, always believable
• Stretching one leg against a wall: 8/10, looks athletic
• Pretending to window shop at a closed store: 7/10, mildly concerning
• Having a loud fake phone argument: 6/10, entertaining for others
• Crying openly: 3/10, too honest

The Strategic Pause System turns your painful journey into performance art. You’re not suffering. You’re just very busy and mysterious and happen to need lots of breaks that coincidentally align with waves of searing discomfort.

Strategy #4: The Mind Over Cheeks Method

Your brain is an idiot. Use this to your advantage.

Pain is just your body’s opinion, and since when do you care about anyone’s opinion? Tell yourself you’re not experiencing saddle sores—you’re conducting important research on alternative walking methods. You’re not in agony—you’re building character in places character has no business being built.

This is advanced self-gaslighting and it works because human brains are surprisingly easy to trick when they’re desperate.

Walk with the unearned confidence of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. Make eye contact with strangers. Not normal eye contact—the kind that says “Yes, this is happening, and yes, it’s intentional.” Nod at people like you’re all in on the same cosmic joke. You’re not walking funny. Everyone else is walking too normally. You’re pioneering the future of human locomotion and they’re stuck in the past with their “functioning normally” and their “absence of crotch pain.”

Someone’s going to film you. Multiple someones, probably. You’ll end up on TikTok with a caption like “NYC different breed ” and honestly? Own it. You’re famous now. For walking like a broken Roomba, but still. Fame is fame.

Decision Time (You Don’t Have Time)

How bad is the situation?

• Uncomfortable: Stop whining
• Painful: Penguin waddle
• Existential crisis: Strategic pauses
• Bargaining with deity of choice: Full cowboy
• Writing your will: Call an ambulance, this isn’t courage, it’s stupidity

How far do you need to go?

• One block: Pure willpower
• Several blocks: Mix all techniques like a DJ who hates music
• Across town: Reconsider your life choices while waddling
• Multiple miles: Seek therapy after seeking medical attention

The Uncomfortable Truth That Nobody Wants to Hear

You did this to yourself. That vintage leather Brooks saddle that cost more than your monthly groceries? The one the bike shop guy said would “mold to your anatomy”? Yeah. It molded alright. Into an instrument of torture that would make medieval dungeon keepers take notes.

But you’re still going to walk. You’re going to waddle, shuffle, pause, and mentally dissociate your way to wherever you need to be. Because that’s what humans do. They persist through stupid, preventable suffering and then do it again next week because they never learn.

When you finally arrive at your destination, you’ll collapse into the nearest chair like you just finished the Tour de France instead of walked eight blocks to Walgreens. Tomorrow you’ll Google “best bike seats for sensitive areas” and read reviews written by other members of this terrible, terrible club.

But today? Today you walk. Like a cowboy. Like a penguin. Like someone who’s transcended the need for dignity.

The sidewalk awaits, and it doesn’t care about your problems.

Now waddle forth and claim your destiny, you beautiful disaster.