Section 3: The End of My ST Hiker Challenge

First and foremost, I am ok—more than ok—I am peaceful. I was describing a feeling to a friend the other day and she tilted her head and said, “peaceful?” I stood there for a couple seconds and replied, “yes, peaceful,” with my usual nervous chuckle. In that moment I realized how powerful true peace is. It might last thirty seconds or, like this time, a few minutes, but it’s that deep, warm, head-to-toe peace you instantly miss the second it slips away.

I’ve brushed extremely close to this feeling in Zion, and on my kayak in the Gulf of Mexico, and experienced it once in Sedona, but never in a random room in Louisville, KY. In my last post I wrote about loving myself and being grateful to be alive—this whole journey and challenge was my way of doing that, fully and authentically. Then Saturday morning at 4:28 a.m., I woke up drenched in sweat with anxiety raging through my body, puked, had what I call a meltdown (extreme emotional release), and finally said to Amy, “I am done.”

Why I Started, Why I Stopped

Friday, I was ecstatic about the weekend and the hike. I was excited for deeper water crossings and to finally get into the gorge. That all changed when I woke up Saturday. Having a meltdown before doing something that usually brings me immense joy forced me to pause and reevaluate my “why.”

The why was supposed to be simple: my joy, my peace, my adventurous spirit, and learning to love myself. In the short-but-long 51 miles of the Sheltowee Trace that I did hike for this challenge, I found way more than I knew I needed.

When I jumped into this challenge on a whim, I was sure the only way I wouldn’t finish was injury or illness. I felt that so strongly because I don’t do failure well. Failure and disappointment are my kryptonite. So I did what I do best: started telling anyone who would listen about this grand adventure where I’d find myself by walking around 350 miles. More people I tell the more I “can’t” disappoint (my brain). And of course I was going to get that unique end-to-ender patch. I love a patch, and that one? Holy hell, I was definitely getting that thing.

The challenge was a purposeful way to choose myself and what I love every month. Month one was brutal: terrible weather and I was sick. Month two was awesome and crappy all at once. My make-up hike ended up being a pivotal, meaningful day. To be honest, I had doubts after month one. My illness and not knowing if I could do it physically brought me back for month two, and I still had a lot to work out internally.

Physically, I learned I can do this. It sucked sometimes, and I hurt badly Monday morning after, but I could hike the miles with a pack, sleep in the cold, hike in all-day rain, and even get up early. My struggles were food and my internal world at camp, which was so weird because I’m a people person who usually makes friends faster than they can get their name out.

In this setting, though, I was not ok. I felt smothered, confused, overwhelmed, and I shut down. I’d try to stay by the campfire—one of my all-time favorite ways to end a day—but I couldn’t last more than 15–20 minutes. I’d end up in my tent or hammock angry at myself, sad, extremely lonely, and wishing I was anywhere else.

During a recent conversation, my therapist asked, “What does failure look like, and what will you do if you are the reason you fail this challenge?” Still determined not to fail or disappoint anyone, I answered, “Failure is not completing the ST in 2026, and if I’m the cause, get ready, because you’re about to be rich from the amount of sessions I’ll need.” She smiled—she knows me well—and she had no doubt I’d finish if I wanted it. I didn’t know the “if I wanted it” part was about to be the real lesson.

Choosing Me Over the Challenge

Since late fall, I’ve dedicated time, money, and space to healing years of self-sabotage. This healing has been messy, violent, scary, lonely, rewarding, fun, love-filled, calming, nurturing, and promising. This weekend it was powerful, releasing, calming, scary, and ultimately freeing.

I chose to say no more to this challenge and yes to more choosing me. On the weekends I had blocked off for the ST, I’m now heading to trails all over the state and neighboring states for weekends of hiking and car camping, cabins, or backcountry hammocking. I’m going back to finding my journey among the trees and flowing waterways, soaking up the healing energy of Mother Nature and all her wonder.

This will mean some solo weekends, more trips with friends (I hope), extra time with Amy and Maggie if they’re in, and maybe some weekend campouts with my parents. I was terrified to choose me and kept suffering so I wouldn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed that this awesome journey just wasn’t for me. To most people that might sound irrational, but I’ve lived a lot of my life this way.

I have spent years pleasing the next person, taking on their emotional baggage, slipping into “hero” mode, trying to help everyone with everything, and putting my own needs and wants last. I’m learning not to be ashamed or embarrassed of my authentic self. I’m embracing what being an empath means—I’m not crazy; I just feel others’ emotions deeply, often without them knowing it.

I’m not just ok with being different; I’m slowly learning to love being different. I’m learning it’s ok to be a deep part of someone’s life for a period of time and then let life move on when that time ends. I used to cling to that feeling, losing myself trying to keep it.

I’m learning that drinking used to quiet other people’s invading energy, and that since I stopped, I’ve had to face myself authentically. I’m nowhere near where I want to be internally, but I’m finally on the right path. I couldn’t have gotten here without my time on the challenge and the people I met along the way.

I learned I can do more than I ever felt comfortable with, and it gave me the confidence to backpack and actually enjoy it. I still hope to cover as much of the Sheltowee Trace as I can on my own terms—but definitely not the road miles, lol. I am forever grateful to those I met on trail; each of you made an impact on me. I hope to see you again someday by chance on a trail.

I also plan to support the STA and their efforts to make the Sheltowee Trace a connector trail by volunteering for trail work days. Who knows, maybe you’ll see me out there one day bringing trail magic because I miss everyone—you never really know with me.

A Universe Hug on Indian Staircase

After sleeping in and recovering from my “awakening” on Saturday, I decided to hike a trail that has terrified me for years: Indian Staircase. It’s no coincidence the trail intersects with the Sheltowee Trace—I like to call it a universe hug, reassuring me I’m right where I belong.

I did the staircase and overcame a huge fear in the process; heights make my heart do flips. I met people of all ages, each uniquely themselves, and I talked to every one of them. It was a perfect day, capped off by a child near the end of the trail exclaiming, “How beautiful, and this is my favorite place.”

She was maybe three or four years old, and her parents told me it was her first time in the gorge as I stepped aside to let them pass. She gave me a high five, absolutely making my day, and I heard her repeating her little mantra as I walked away. It was the kind of ending I crave in life: fresh air, kind humans, laughs, healthy fear, and the sound of a child’s voice echoing through the rocks.

Live a great story, NOT a perfect one. Love hard and I hope my story finds a person that needed to know it is ok to choose yourself. Do it, it is scary and hard, but when you do the feeling is so worth the fear.