Testing, testing...anyone there?

The year is 2019. It’s been a minute. Life has 

unraveled and reraveled a dozen times since I last 

shared. How many times have I sat down to write? 

But unable to determine where to start, how to end 

and what mattered in between, I gave up and found 

other things to occupy my brain. Now, looking back 

at my last hike and reading through my diary of my 

time on the trail, I feel both completely connected to 

that girl, like it was yesterday...and so far from her 

that I almost feel ashamed. Some magic happened 

out there among the trees, and I fear I let the “real 

world” reclaim me to the point that lessons were lost 

and that time feels like a movie I watched years ago. 

That is not to say life hasn’t been good. I have been 

happy and immersed in building new things and 

feeling new things and learning new things. But the 

clarity I was coming into as I spent all that time alone 

in the woods has turned into perpetual fog. I have 

moved forward, but without the trail leading me, it’s 

been a sloppy path. 

I have continued to feel the draw of nature even 

during my hiking sabbatical. But not the kind of 

nature that just being outside brings you, nothing a 

walk at lunch could fulfill. I have craved the 

absence of man made things...the deep woods where you cannot hear a passing car or see roads and 

buildings and sidewalks. I’ve made do with early 

morning runs on gravel roads in rural areas. These 

moments have been my mini-sanctuaries. I have 

always found my soul’s home to be in that simple 

ray of sunlight peeking through the trees the way it 

does in the morning. That’s what makes me slow 

down, let go, just occupying a contented space. But  those brief interludes where just that...brief. 

The things I have to do creep back in. A text from work. A call from my kids. Someone, somewhere needs 

some energy too. We all exist in this energy 

economy - all takers and givers. The wisest among us knowing how and when to recharge their stores. And so I leave my holy land and return to my tribe and 

take my place among the givers and takers. Playing my part as best I can. We all do it.

But I know a secret. We don’t actually have to do any of this. We can choose differently. Certainly no one 

will ever tell you this. I don’t know about you, but my boss has never walked up to me and said, “you look 

like you need to recharge your batteries. How about 

you go hike for a couple of weeks? The fresh air will  actually make you better at your work. Now get out of here! Oh, and go completely guilt free, would ya?” 

And to be fair, I have not done enough of this for the people in my life either. It has been my experience 

that the things we allow to draw energy from us will 

continue to do so as long as we let them. This isn’t 

out of malice, it’s simply human nature. We are all so 

focused on our own experiences that we rarely want 

to give anything up...even if the thing we give up 

could allow someone important to us to replenish 

their energy. Or maybe it’s the fear they won’t return 

to us? That’s all beyond me - but what I do know is, 

unless your world exposes you to some pretty enlightened people, it’s on us to make the change we need. We can make a different choice. 

I have been dipping my toes into this different way of being for years now via these long walks through the 

woods. I can’t share the exact route to “freedom” yet - but I hope I can someday. Right now, all I can offer 

is a seat in my brain as I run these little experiments.

All this is to say - in just a couple of days I will be 

heading out to hike the John Muir Trail in California. 

Spanning from Yosemite to Mt. Whitney, it’s a 200+ 

mile trek through some of the most beautiful scenery - things only those willing to walk for 15-20 days 

while carrying all they need to survive - will ever get 

to see.

This trip will bring in a few new elements to my hiking experience. Grizzly bears: no longer the kind, gentle 

black bears that have done a pretty great job of 

terrifying me. These guys mean business. Altitude:

hiking above 8,000 feet and reaching points as high as 14,000 feet brings a whole new opportunity to 

throw up. And most notably, my husband of 2 years: 

who has never backpacked before. If you’ve been a 

reader of this blog, you know I wasn’t exactly killing it without these new challenges (and yes, I am currently considering my husband a challenge. He find this 

wildly flattering), so this should be fun, right?

I’m actually really excited to see what this adventure has in store for us. More to come! And to my friends who are suggesting this has all the makings of a 

future Dateline special...I completely agree.