The only thing I can feel is my nose. And I wish I couldn’t. It’s red, frozen, and feels like it’s about to fall off. I just keep telling myself to put one foot back in front of the other. I have to. I can’t quit now because I’ve already come this far.

Thirty miles.

Walking for the past five days has taken a toll on my body, but months of preparation in the hills of Virginia have prepared me for an eight day, fifty mile hike in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming.

I stop to take a drink and look back at how far I’ve come. I look down and see a valley between two of the largest mountains I’ve ever seen and wonder how I got up here, and how I managed to pull forty pounds on my back up the side of a mountain.

I struggle to take a breath, adjust my pack, and continue on the trail. The monotony of hiking and peaceful nature of the woods throws me into the endless river of thought that flows through my mind.

Hiking affords me the opportunity to ponder the many things I have learned and how I have grown. It has pushed me out of my comfort zone and into a place that I am able to grow and learn. Into a place that I learned I can do more than I had ever believed, and the euphoria felt from that knowledge is the motivation to put that foot right back in front of the other.

I’ve gained discipline, self-confidence, responsibility, and a love for the natural world that God has created for me from something that has become much more than a walk through the woods to me.