It started with a few people showing up to walk. Nothing extraordinary, just neighbors meeting in the park for a stroll. But over time, something shifted: Strangers became familiar, and a routine became a ritual. These walkers are out to exercise, but it’s also something more than that. They’re part of a citywide effort that sees parks not only as recreational spaces, but as core social infrastructure — for exercise and everyday public life.

Since launching as a pilot in 2017, We Walk PHL has expanded from three to 28 meet-up locations and has logged over 3,000 walks. What began with a handful of people has grown into a spirited community movement, powered by an ongoing partnership with the Fairmount Park Conservancy, the Philadelphia Department of Public Health, and Parks & Recreation.

The group’s name — We Walk PHL — tells the story. The We, the Walk, and the PHL are all mutual parts of one another. The plural we, the grounding act of walking, and the rooted geography of PHL — each a portal to community, movement, and a place. And it turns out that the place is the public square envisioned in William Penn’s “greene country towne,” the phrase revealing the latent power of the original plan.

Each group walks at its own pace, but the heart of the program stays the same: show up, move together, connect. Over the past eight years, a steady rhythm has taken shape — from Pennypack on the Delaware to West Fairmount. Walkers gather during the spring and fall seasons — May through June, then again September through October — in the process reshaping how Philadelphians engage with their parks, neighborhoods and one another.

According to five participant surveys from 2019 to 2022, 91 percent of walkers reported better mental health, 87 percent saw physical improvements, and 86 percent formed lasting relationships through the program.

Nicole Seahorne Hameen, We Walk engagement coordinator for the Fairmount Park Conservancy, says “Walking is one of the simplest, most accessible ways to care for both your body and your mind. A short walk can lift your mood, ease your aches, and reset your day. It doesn’t take much to make a big difference — just a few steps at a time.”

Part health initiative, part gathering point, We Walk PHL is drawing attention well beyond Philadelphia.

Bridget Marquis, Director of Reimagining the Civic Commons — a national initiative active in 10 U.S. cities — sees the program as city-to-city model for activating public space: “We Walk demonstrates the multi-faceted value of investing in public space programming — and offers a model that cities everywhere should adopt.”

 “A short walk can lift your mood, ease your aches, and reset your day. It doesn’t take much to make a big difference — just a few steps at a time.” Nicole Seahorne Hameen, We Walk engagement coordinator

Marquis points to a wide range of impacts — from improved physical and mental health to strengthened public life in city parks. The program’s design, she explains, builds social capital through weekly regularity, encourages civic engagement through volunteer walk leaders, and fosters a sense of shared identity with small but meaningful gestures like matching T-shirts and more. “Can you imagine another program that delivers that much bang for the buck?”

Local residents serve as the heartbeat of the program. Recruited from the neighborhoods where they walk, these leaders receive stipends and training in pedestrian advocacy, fitness training, and ways to foster inclusive, welcoming spaces for people of all abilities.

The aim isn’t just to lead walks — it’s to cultivate a deeper sense of stewardship. Over time, the We Walkers become informal ambassadors for their parks, advocates public space, and a support network for each other.

We Walk Awbury

At 56 acres, Awbury Arboretum can feel hard to grasp — until you begin walking. Under the shade of trees and across open meadows, the space expands with each step: people tending soil, pruning, planting. Crossing Washington Lane, the landscape becomes hilly.

On a clear Saturday morning in May, I joined 22 people at Awbury for a one-hour walk. Most of the walkers were Black women from Germantown and Mt. Airy. One of the We Walk leaders, Debbie Matthews — a retiree from Amtrak — smiled and said, “Welcome! Looks like you’re the only rooster today!”

We formed a circle, offering brief introductions — first names and something we enjoy about walking. We hear: “well-being and nature,” “getting out of the house,” “building up for our family trip to Disney World.” One woman says she’s recovering from a knee operation; another simply, “for movement!” Fellowship and health come up more than once. Another adds, “Because my doctor said I should … and she checks!” Everyone laughs.

Next comes light stretching. Arms reaching elegantly skyward, then dropping to the sides, then toes — or close. A few low-impact jumping jacks to follow. Walk leader Barb Philmon points out three people doing the full reps! Everyone claps and laughs again.

Then, one by one, the group heads down a narrow path snaking through the park. As we walk, people greet us. At the goat area, two women behind the fence say hello to each passerby. Further on, a man with a shovel calls out, urging the group to “come back and help!” All throughout the park people wave to the We Walkers.

We pass the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society’s Community Garden Program, cultivating food and skills side by side. At Mort Brooks Farm, the earth is tilled and tended by the Weavers Way Co-op. There’s also GREAT — Germantown Residents for Economic Alternatives Together — working with purpose rooted in the land. In a sun-dappled corner, chickens clucked behind the woven fence of the Awbury Cluck Patrol.

The walk continues and the park unfolds — from the Community Garden Club to Black + Planted and there’s the city’s Beekeepers Guild. And then — back to the goats. The beloved Philly Goat Project brings families together through their care for the Neighborhood Family Garden. These working goats help maintain the overgrown park edges — and sometimes even participate in goat yoga.

We Walk FDR

Like at Awbury, at FDR Park the walkers bring their routines and their stories — their ailments, photos on their phones, solitude, and sociability. On a mild spring morning in 2024, I joined We Walk PHL leader Mildred Pitts for a walk through the park.

A self-described “South Philadelphia native,” “Ms. Mildred,” now in her 70s, has been coming to FDR since childhood, when her parents would picnic and swim at the pool. Although she walks in other city parks, including Bartram’s Garden, she says FDR is her “homebase.” She’s been with the group since its inception in 2017. Pitts says the regular structure of meeting twice a week — on Tuesdays and Saturdays at 8:30am — helps people build the walks into their weekly routines.

Pitts wears lightly tinted sunglasses and a white headscarf with black interconnected zig zag pattern. Her face is clear, her presence steady.

Pitts knows how to move between moments. Her fellow walkers are in good hands. She can rally the group to set off with a few words or slow mid-stride to greet park regulars coming the other way.

Oh my — that little yellow bird with the bit of black on its wings, those kids in a boat on the lake — the We Walkers go!

We Walk PHL has become part of the rhythm of the place. Pitts says the group at FDR has a shifting core of 10 to 20 members and is mostly women and “mostly seniors who are coming out,” but also says they’re open to everyone and that she’s been recently bringing her two grandchildren and she sees We Walk as “a family thing.”

The number of people in the group varies from year to year, from season to season, and even from day to day because people come, and people go. It’s like an open class. “If you want to walk, you come out,” Pitts says.

Just keep moving

Pitts is clear about why she walks and why it matters: “You’re supposed to keep moving. That’s my motto: Just keep moving, whatever you do. I had a bout of severe pain … but I still walked. I thought, Maybe I can’t do anything else, but I can walk. As long as I can, I’ll walk it out; sometimes you have to. They say with those aches and pains, walking it out is better than sitting still.” She says the benefits are real, but there’s also “just the sheer joy.”

Like many, Pitts found a refuge in the park during Covid. “Oh, man, during the pandemic, the park was a sanctuary,” she says. “When everyone was shut in, the parks were open. You could go to the park and get out of the house. It was a godsend. Every day, I had a place to go.” She notes that even in the winter, “You put your hat, your scarf, your coat on, whatever you do to keep warm, but you’re walking.”

From the park to the feed

We Walk walks also extend out of the park, carrying over into digital space. On the active We Walk Facebook page, people coordinate rides and tag each other in photos with captions like “Moving and Grooving / One Step at a Time,” and “Excited to see some new faces with our Picariello Crew tonight!”

One leader posted about starting a walk with just one other person, proof you don’t need a crowd to show up, just a pair of decent shoes and the will to move. Even in the rain, people show up — raincoats zipped, umbrellas up — still walking together.

Many posts feature We Walkers cheering each other on. Most recently, there was a 5K walk with a pop-up BBQ over Memorial Day, and a special We Walk trip across the Ben Franklin Bridge. It’s a small but powerful example of how digital tools, when embedded in civic life, can strengthen rather than fragment social ties.

Before Pitts and I say good-bye, she says that she’s found that the people come not just for exercise, but for safety and connection: “They know they need to get out and move and prefer walking with a group because it feels safer.”

Her reflections are simple, even understated. They point to something fundamental: how even modest, informal gatherings can shape the civic life of a city — especially in places where public safety, trust, and connection aren’t guaranteed.

“They’re just friendly, ordinary people,” she says. “If they walk daily, you see them, learn their names, and they know yours. It’s like a social … but it’s not a group [really], because we’re all just out here. I wouldn’t call it a social group — we’re all just part of the park.”

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