In my last post I mentioned that something difficult and solo was coming. That the planning was keeping me sane. Here’s the first layer. I’d love for you to join me in the prep.

I am preparing for a solo backpacking trip. The location stays with me for now. The distance stays with me for now. What I can tell you is that it scares me in exactly the right way. 😅

I have been preparing for 115 weeks. Not for this trip specifically. I didn’t know this trip was coming when I started. But somewhere along the way, the preparation and the destination found each other.

115 weeks of lifting 2 to 3 times a week. Pilates 2 to 3 times a week. Gravel and road biking. Hiking and walking almost every day. About 35 hours of movement a month. 27 days out of 30. Through career transition. Through raising five kids. Through the particular kind of hard that perimenopause brings: physically, emotionally, in ways I didn’t expect and couldn’t always name. Working out hard — red line, full exertion — is how I steady myself. I added pilates at the pleading of my doctor.

I have had five knee surgeries. I am not at my goal weight. I am not waiting. There is no perfect. There is only prepared.

I have also been preparing with books. Not just trail guides, though I know where the water is and how to survive a bear encounter. But the books that feed the mental and emotional work of doing something this hard.

Books about people who walked toward something difficult because standing still was no longer an option.

I am in the phase of permits and gear and routes and food and water and train schedules and spreadsheets and conversations with myself (and Mike!, and Claude 😄) about the details.

Success is not guaranteed. I know that.

But I am doing the things that matter as well as I can. I am learning. I am preparing. I am going.

This is about more than a hike. It’s about taking stock of this season of life and deciding what the next one looks like.

More soon. YIPPIE!!!! 🏕️ 🥾 👏