What if I Don't Hike Right Now? Being More Than Just a Hiker
Rebecca Sperry
“I don’t want to hike right now, I just want to stay home and read and write” I think to myself as I throw my pack into the passenger seat of my car and make the ninety-minute long excursion north for another full day in the mountains. This has been my normal since 2016, though, and every summer I find myself upping the ante and trying to hike more during my sixty-day summer vacation. As an educator, I am contracted to work 186 days a year. 2015 was my first summer not working. In May of that year, I discovered hiking and was instantly hooked. I’ve spent the next six summers trying to hike more miles than I did the previous summer, because I love hiking. But what happens when new hobbies and new interests arise? What happens when you get a life-altering diagnosis that completely changes your perspective on life? What would happen if instead of hiking three to four days a week, I scaled it way back and only hiked one day a week? Or (gasp) no days a week?
For me, hiking isn’t just one long thru-hike. I don’t just travel to the trailhead and start walking for days, weeks, or months at a time. Regardless of whether or not I’m working, hiking is one of many “responsibilities” that I have in my day-to-day life, and up until this summer I have felt completely content with putting all of my other pastimes or get-togethers on hold in order to focus on hiking as much as possible while I can. So, what changed? Why did I make this sudden shift from wanting to see how many miles I could crank out or how many days per month I could hike to wanting to diversify how I spend my precious free time?
To be honest, this shift has been happening for almost a year now; ever since I got my cancer diagnosis. As much as I love spending time alone, getting cancer changed me. I went from wanting to spend a large majority of my time by myself to craving the presence of other people. I suddenly realized that it wasn’t the memories that I made all alone in the woods that mattered most, it was the time spent with friends and family. This summer, things started to shift even farther from the norm, as I find my time being pulled between writing a book, spending time with friends and family, and hiking. I am no longer willing to sacrifice other pastimes just so that I can say that I hiked an extra two or three days per month and I’m slowly beginning to realize that I am the only one who is making myself go hiking instead of doing other things that I enjoy, just so that I can maintain a certain level of fitness or so I can continue to have new photos to post on my social media account from recent adventures.
“I don’t even remember what I just hiked, they all blur together” I say to my friend Danielle, as we set out on a short backpacking trip on the Long Trail. This is a common theme for myself as well as many others who frequent the wilderness. I want to blame the chemotherapy for wreaking havoc on my memory when I try to recall my most recent excursion to someone, but the truth is, when you’re hiking three to four days a week all over the state, it’s really hard to remember what you just hiked. It’s a distant memory before you even have time to reflect on the experience. So, is this why I hike? So that I can rack up the mileage, compete against the previous summer’s total days hiking, or to have new photos to post on social media? If I’m not hiking three to four days a week, am I still a hiker? What if I don’t hike for a week straight? What if I don’t hike for the rest of the summer?
I am more than just a hiker and I am starting to realize that writing a book this summer, spending time with my friends and family, reading for fun, and training my new kitten to be an adventure cat, are all pastimes that are just as important as hiking. I’m also starting to feel the pull of former physical activities again - namely weight training - and would like to get back into a normal exercise routine - one that doesn’t involve three hours in the car every day.
The New England attitude towards hiking has held sway over me for the past five years but I’m slowly starting to burn out on the drive to “keep up with the Jones’s” on the trails. Rather than trying to finish the New England Hundred Highest in a summer, or add another ten percent to my total trails red-lined, I would rather diversify my time and spend a bit more of it off trail; in front of my computer working on my book, or throwing up some iron in the hopes of seeing definition in my shoulders again.
When I look back at the last four summers that I’ve spent almost exclusively hiking, what stands out to me are the times that I didn’t spend hiking - the memories that I made off-trail whether that was at the beach or in New York City. The mountains will always be my home away from home and I’m not saying that I don’t want to hike anymore, but maybe it’s OK if I only hike two days a week instead of four. Maybe it’s OK if instead of forcing myself to go slog around through mosquito-infested grasses just to red line another .01% of trail, I stay home and write another five pages of my book. Maybe it’s OK if I am more than just a hiker and maybe I would rather be part of the 95% of people that don’t spend all of their free time in the mountains alone, just to say that they hiked all of the trails in The Whites in a year or climbed all of the highest peaks in New England in a summer. There is more to me than just hiking and I think I am starting to finally be OK with that; maybe even embrace the other facets of who I am. So for now, I am content with spending four days a week home in front of my laptop working on my book, or alternating between local walks with my mom and lifting weights for exercise. Because I am more than just a hiker and maybe that is a good thing.
