Maggie Slepian

I write primarily outdoor-industry content, and most of my activities take place somewhere in the woods. Sometimes my writing is technical gear roundups, sometimes it’s marginally more interesting. Most of the time though, my work is directly related to backcountry travel, and is entirely unrelatable to anyone outside of this tiny cluster of people who enjoy carrying sack-like backpacks for thousands of miles.

If there’s one person in my life who can’t relate to extended backcountry travel, it’s my mom. It’s not like she isn’t outdoorsy and active—she bikes to the pool to swim laps multiple times each week, and she rides her horse every single day, no matter what the weather. But she doesn’t hike, and the concept of thru-hiking is especially baffling to her. But nevertheless, she’s one of my biggest cheerleaders. 

My mother doesn’t have social media and she doesn’t like texting, but every time we talk on the phone she asks about my recent adventures and asks to read my writing. I send her everything, from articles about thru-hiking budgeting to essays about the White Mountains. She’s seen my features in a hunting magazine and read about my disasterous bikepacking trip.

She emails me a response to every article I send her, which is quite a commitment. Not only that, but she finds a way to connect to each article or essay, and tells me how she relates to it. When she read about me quitting the bike trip, it reminded her of how I quit soccer in third grade. She read an apparel roundup (why??) and noticed that I included a pair of mittens she gave me. She responds in a way that shows she not only read what I wrote, but found a way to connect to it outside of the activity itself. She also has a lot going on, but makes sure to take the time to make a conversation about what’s going on in my life. In return, I try to do the same. This is the type of support that goes beyond the expected response, and keeps us going when we’re slogging away on our solo ventures. 

Writing is a solitary profession, as are many of our backcountry endeavors. For writers in the outdoor industry, it means we spend a lot of time alone. What we do can be hard to relate to and harder to keep up with from the outside, so having people in our lives who cheer us on from their own locales is a boost that helps keep us going.

Maybe your cheerleader is a family member as well, or another person in your life who has provided that unconditional support and encouragement, no matter how wildly you’ve veered away from being able to relate to all (or any) aspects of their lives. It might be a friend or neighbor, a sibling or random person on the internet. Whoever it is, there’s something truly special about having a person who doesn’t have much of an idea of what you do, but is busy jumping around on the sidelines cheering you on anyway. 

I’m very fortunate in that my entire family is supportive of my nontraditional career path and my propensity for taking random breaks to hike a few hundred miles in random parts of the country. My dad was my inspiration for getting outdoors in the first place, and I’m close with all three of my siblings. But it’s my mom, with her ceaseless enthusiasm for me thriving in a realm she doesn’t relate to that truly encapsulates that unconditional support.

This was originally going to be a Mother’s Day post next month, but I realize that this kind of support comes from a lot of places. Some of us have biological mothers who send us emails full of exclamation points, others have found families, mother or father figures, aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends, or a close-knit community who they can send their work to and expect a positive, wholesome response. 

Whoever is out there, cheering you on whether or not they can relate to what they’re cheering for, thank you. And for those of you being cheered for, take this as a reminder to thank those people and tell them how much it means. BRB, I’m going to go call my mom.