I love hiking analogies. There’s just something so simple and poignant about putting everything behind you and exposing yourself to a WHOLE LOT OF PAIN just for a pretty view and the ecstasy of having done something meaningful with your life.
Thing is, when you’re hiking–and particularly when you’re doing a steep backpacking trip, with about 40 lbs on your back and a 20% incline to navigate–there’s nothing left but you and your determination. Even after so many years of doing this, I still get a fluttery feeling inside of me as my body asks, “Are you sure? Are you really, really sure?”
If you’re the sort of person who does this over and over again, you eventually learn to chase away that nagging feeling of doubt. It is gone by the end of the second hour. By the end of the second hour, you see yourself crawl through the trail markers and you start to focus on every step, on every breath, every cramp and ache and rivulet of sweat on your body.
If you ever wanted to know what it’s like to be confronted by your own demons, go hiking. You’ll find yourself face-to-face with all your self-esteem issues, with nothing but your own grit to drive them away. “Are you sure you can do this? What made you think you’re fit enough for this? What if something happens that you can’t control? What if…” It’s a lot worse when outside situations make it more difficult to stay sane–cold, rain, getting lost, etc.
You sort of strip away everything, all crutches of modern life, and you’re left with nothing but yourself. I’ve had a lot of interesting moments of retrospection while hiking. One particularly poignant one happened a few years back, when I got separated from my husband and daughter in the freezing rain. I had a few moments of panic, but I was able to talk myself into calming down and thinking about how to get out of it. Through the haze of fear and doubt, I realized that all I had to do was backtrack to where my husband last saw me. The plan worked–two hours later, while screaming near that area, I heard him faintly scream back. We all got out of that ordeal, although I came down with adrenaline shakes by the time we got back to civilization and had a crazy fever that night to show for it.
Stuff like that changes you.
I think I’ve talked before about how neurotic I was in the days before I started hiking seriously. My anxiety ruled my life, making it difficult for me to do normal things. Now I hike, in the dark, without bear spray. I’m almost sure I wouldn’t have made the life decisions that lead to me finishing The Agartes Epilogues if I hadn’t started hiking.
If you’ve never tried it before, it’s never too late to start.
Or you know, just stay home and read The Agartes Epilogues for your daily dose of adventure. It’s okay, I won’t judge.
