Take a Hike: How the Trail Won Me Over

I wasn’t always into hiking.

Growing up in Florida, “elevation” was a slight bump in the road or a hill at the park that barely challenged your calves. The outdoors meant beaches, backyard barbecues, and summer storms. Hiking, to me, seemed like something people did in movies—usually with gear I didn’t own, in forests I couldn’t name, going nowhere fast.

But life, as it tends to do, had other plans.

Somewhere along my journey, I laced up my sneakers, hit a trail, and something shifted. I wasn’t hiking for sport or Instagram. I was walking. Wandering. Listening. Letting my curiosity lead. And in those moments—surrounded by birdsong, and the rustle of wind through trees—I discovered something unexpected: I loved it.

Not just the views (though they don’t hurt), but the rhythm of it all. The slowness. The solitude. The sense of freedom that comes when your phone loses service and your instincts take over.

I realized I was an explorer at heart.

Not the kind with maps and machetes—but the kind who wants to know what’s around the next bend. The kind who follows the trail just a little further, not because I have to, but because something inside me wants to.

Hiking gave me access to a deeper kind of travel. One where the journey is the destination. Where you earn the view, feel the climb, and learn things about yourself you didn’t know you were carrying.

Now, it’s one of my favorite hobbies.

From the lush hills of the Pacific Northwest to the crater rims of volcanoes, from misty forests in Oregon to sunbaked trails in Arizona—every hike adds another layer to who I am.

Some days, it’s a peaceful reset. Other days, it’s a challenge. But it’s always worth it.

So no, I didn’t grow up hiking. But now? I take a hike as often as I can.

Because the trail teaches. It humbles. It heals. And more than anything, it reminds me: there’s always something waiting to be discovered—especially within myself.