Dear Hiking,
As frost coats the ground, leaves change and fall, the mountain peaks gather snow, and your trails will soon be hidden. Another season of you comes to a close, and though my heart feels heavy saying goodbye, I can't help but smile when I think of all you have given me.
While walking may sound like measly exercise, you have taught me its effects can be profound, even inspiring, especially when surrounded by nature. One foot in front of the other, I place my trust on your beaten path, always in awe of what I see and learn along the way. My days spent with you are rejuvenating for both body and soul.
I have you to thank for my greater sense of wellness and physical fitness. For several years, I had shied away from most exercise, knowing long periods of cardio or high-impact activities could flare my rheumatoid arthritis, which would set me back further than if I had just avoided exercise altogether. But walking was something I already did each day, and you offered me a new outlet, a novel path to bettering my health. I didn't know that your reprieve would be the start of something greater. Because walking doesn't evoke stress or raise my cortisol like other workouts. Being surrounded by nature calms my nervous system, allowing my body to handle the movement even better, benefiting my recovery time and mental health.
As I tackled more of your trails and explored different mountain ranges, you encouraged me to dream again, to imagine what I was told I could never do. With each hike, I wanted to go further, climb higher, travel faster, and maybe even run. But that would be crazy, right? Me, running? I had said goodbye to high-impact activities years ago at my doctor's orders. But still, as I saw others running by on your trails, the desire lingered, and somewhere along your paths, you whispered to me that it could be possible. And so, you gave me the courage to ask for help and share my dream of trail running with those who might support me. You pushed me to find the people who could see my potential and work with me to reach it. My dream of being able to run up and down your mountains is now one that I am actively working towards, no longer a distant fantasy but an actual possibility because of the hope you've given me. Without you, I wonder where I would be with my physical health. Would I have shut down even further, becoming frustrated each time I tried to move my body, and it resulted in a flare? Would I have become more stiff and rigid because I'd stopped using my body for what it was meant for?
I'm grateful that I won't have to know that answer and that you have taught me to find my own way - one that is not decided by others.
But following your paths has bettered me in more ways than one.
You have also inspired much of my writing. The quietness of your trails brings clarity and revelations I wouldn't otherwise have found in a noisy city. Your silence has helped me look deeper within myself for the parts of me that needed recognition, attention, or healing—the parts of me I wouldn't have heard were crying for help without your quiet escape. You've also encouraged me to slow down and embrace the pace of nature. Your mountain peaks, towering trees, wildflowers, alpine lakes, and forest groves have taught me to look at the world with fresh eyes. Recognizing how scarce this world is. The wildlife I have crossed along your paths has reminded me of how I wish to care for the earth and pointed out that I, too, am a powerful force of nature.
You have taught me to embrace messy and that dirty is okay. I used to fret over the feeling of not being clean, but my heart sinks when I think of the alternative, of sitting indoors, immaculate and pristine, with not an ounce of earth's soil on me. You have reminded me that we come from nature and that to be surrounded by it, covered in it, is a blessing.
You have taught me that progress is better than perfection. When I see plants and trees growing in the most unlikely places, on rock scrambles and cliffsides, you have reminded me that I, too, can create my own path and reach destinations that others might not fully understand, but within my heart, I know they are right for me.
Enjoying you has mostly been a solo endeavor, but you've also introduced me to new friends and grown closer to old ones—getting lost in conversation while walking your trails. You've taught me about comradery and support. What a simple hello or smile from a stranger can do when feeling lonely. You've reminded me that being in nature can be the sense of connection one might miss.
Your hidden landscapes have been the most rewarding treat. You remind me that going the extra mile, putting in the work, and keeping at it for a bit longer is always worth it. What else could be better than spending more time with you?
So, thank you, hiking, for everything you have given me and taught me. Thank you for being my safety and escape, rejuvenating and enlightening me. Thank you for daring me to dream again—creating a new path to fitness and wellness and reminding me what the human body is capable of. Thank you for introducing me to new places and faces. Thank you for inspiring these words, which are a reminder of how great a gift this world and life truly is.
Sincerely,
A hiker
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