Hiker Wisdom for Hard Times
My dad went into the ICU last Thursday. He’s not battling Coronavirus—thankfully—but the virus-related social restrictions have prevented us from visiting him during his illness. My poor mama has been at home with the dog, anxiously awaiting calls from the hospital. Needless to say, it’s been a painful experience for me, and I can only imagine how he must feel.
This might sound strange, but I’ve been relying on four pieces of thru-hiker wisdom to get me through this crisis. If you’ve spent any time with a long-distance hiker, you’ve probably heard these phrases before, but if not, allow me to introduce you to a philosophy that is very effective at providing a sense of comfort and emotional freedom in times of stress and uncertainty.
HIKE YOUR OWN HIKE.
Adhering to the speed, priorities, and schedule of someone else is a recipe for injury, resentment, and even failure.
When my dad was admitted to the ICU, I took an entire week off from everything except cooking, eating, sleeping, and being with my family. That was all I had the energy for.
I know some highly-motivated, inspirational entrepreneurs who see crises as opportunities and who thrive under pressure. When they’re sick or hurting, when someone they love is suffering, or even when it seems like their life is in utter shambles, somehow they channel their energy into beautiful products and powerful campaigns. It’s downright impressive. Focusing on work actually helps them get through the hard times. Maybe you can relate to this, and if so, I bow to you!
But that ain’t me. When I’m in pain, or when my family is in trouble, I’m not working. I’m resting.
Knowing this about myself—that I do my best work when I’m feeling good, and that my capacity for work is near zero in times of crisis—enables me to shrug my shoulders, close the laptop, and release any self-judgement around not seizing what others might see as a great opportunity.
When I got the news that his recovery was taking root, and that he was being transferred out of the ICU, relief washed over me. Within a few hours, the idea for this post had materialized and I was ready to write.
BOTTOM LINE: Stay away from the compare-and-despair trap. Trust yourself to know what’s right for you, then act on that inner knowing.
EVERYTHING WEIGHS SOMETHING.
The fun goes up when the weight goes down.
The stories and beliefs we carry about ourselves and our situations matter. These stories are especially important to pay attention to in times of struggle.
How do you talk to yourself? What judgements do you hold about yourself and your choices, and how do these show up when you’re battling something? Does your attitude toward yourself strengthen you, lift you up, empower you? Or does it tear you down, shame you, and blame you?
If you chose the latter, you certainly aren’t alone...but you don’t have to hold onto the mean-spirited thoughts, beliefs, or behaviors that needlessly weigh you down.
If you aren’t sure where to start, recruit your loved ones to act as mirrors. One afternoon last week, my mom started beating herself up for not calling the ambulance sooner. She should’ve realized just how sick he was, she said. She should’ve paid better attention. She should’ve advocated harder. My brother and I were quick to jump in and remind her of everything she did right: she monitored him closely, she followed all the instructions given to her by the doctor and by the EMTs during their first visit, and she followed up with them as soon as he started exhibiting the signs they warned her about.
BOTTOM LINE: Carry only what you need. Over time, the stuff that doesn’t serve you will only weigh you down and hurt you. When your inner mean girl shows up with insults and judgements about how you’re not good enough / you’re doing it wrong / you should be trying harder, picture a trap door beneath her feet. Then pull the string and say bye-bye.
THE TRAIL PROVIDES.
You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.
During the first few agonizing days after my dad’s hospitalization, we wanted to be close to my mom to support her and offer companionship. But we took the social distancing guidelines seriously, and we knew we needed to stay in our own place to minimize contact with her (as well as other humans).
We found an Airbnb, booked it, and showed up 4 hours later. To our chagrin, neither the confirmation email nor the Airbnb app provided us with a code for the combination on the door handle. We couldn’t get in. After repeated attempts to contact the hosts, we gave up and reserved another spot for the weekend (which—bonus!—happened to be across the street from a Korean fried chicken restaurant, and given that we were famished and exhausted, this worked out magically).
Airbnb refunded us, and we weren’t actually mad at the hosts. We knew it was a complete accident; we trusted that they were good peeps.
The next day we heard from the very apologetic hosts, who understood how terribly inconvenient the situation had been for us. They offered us a complimentary 2-night stay to make it up to us.
What appeared to be a pretty raw deal turned into something that will actually save us $260 on our next visit to the Seattle area, and we discovered what Dave says might be his new favorite restaurant.
BOTTOM LINE: So often, the world dishes up exactly what you need, even if it looks different than what you thought you wanted. Plus, there are so many huge-hearted people out there who want to help, and they really come out of the woodwork in times of need.
THIS TOO SHALL PASS.
Whether you’re trying to soak it up or struggling to tough it out, remember: it won’t be like this for long.
Mindfulness is the most effective tool I’ve discovered to combat anxiety. Science backs this up. Making the effort to notice things as they are in the here-and-now, rather than the past or the imagined future, helps us recognize what is real. Spiritual teachers assure us that all we ever have is now, anyway, and that our only constant in this life is change.
To avoid snowballing into agonizing what-ifs about my dad’s condition, I utilized every possible opportunity to be fully present with the here-and-now. I stood and gazed at a flock of swallows swirling over the river against a brilliant blue sky, then watched in amazement as they swooped under the bridge into their nests, presumably to feed their peeping young ones. I pictured my dad in his hospital bed, peaceful, being breathed by the ventilator, checked on frequently by the caring nurses. I focused on all that I was grateful for, like the physical sensation of my own healthy and (mostly) pain-free body, and the comfort of wrapping my arms around my partner in a hug.
And I reminded myself that while we couldn’t know the outcome of my dad’s hospital stay, we had certainty that he wouldn’t be in there forever. At some point, answers would emerge from the doctors’ research efforts. In the meantime, I had plenty of sensory experiences to focus on.
BOTTOM LINE: Everything is temporary. The joyful moments, the very best experiences of our lives that we desperately want to hang onto...those end. The hardest moments, the ones that bring us to our knees and make us wonder if we’re even capable of getting through them...those end too.
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When I returned home after my 5-month hike on the Pacific Crest Trail in 2014, I was distraught. I was depressed, anxious, and directionless. It was my dear old dad who reminded me that the ups and downs, the loneliness, the accomplishments, the pure joy, the suffering, and the teachings of my thru-hike would stay with me. The PCT journey would forever be within me, he said. He was right.
I hope these words of wisdom provide some guidance for you in the challenges you face.