Practicing Self-Love on the Pacific Crest Trail

Sunrise in the Northern Cascades, Oct. 7, 2018

On October 7^th, 2018, I woke up around 4:45am, prepared my last instant coffee and instant oatmeal, changed into my hiking clothes, packed up my gear, put on my headlamp and hit the trail at 5:45. For most of Washington, I’d started hiking sometime between 8-9:30 each morning. The mornings were cold, dark, and often wet, my body was tired from hiking over 2,000 miles, and most days I just couldn’t get motivated to leave my warm sleeping bag until it was at least light outside. So why, on this day, my last day on the PCT, was I able to get up and start hiking before sunrise? Well, mostly, I wanted desperately to sleep in a bed that night, so I wanted to hike not only to the Northern Terminus (the “finish line” of the PCT going Northbound), but all the way to Manning Park Resort (approximately 8.5 miles past the finish line), and it meant pulling a really long day, and if I wanted any chance at doing that, I had to start hiking early. So was that the motivation I needed to get going before sunrise? Knowing that I was close enough to finish and possibly be able to sleep in a warm bed and never have to shiver myself to sleep in a wet tent ever again?

But you know, the morning just before this, I’d started hiking around 8:30. And what if I’d gotten up an hour or two earlier on that morning and the morning before that? Then I’d have fewer miles to walk today and would definitely make it to the bed, the hot shower and the warm meal that awaited me at Manning Park. And come to think of it, if I’d just gotten up a little earlier each day of the whole dang hike, maybe I wouldn’t be out here still hiking in October. So why am I able to get up early today, but I couldn’t get myself up and moving all those other days?

During my time on the PCT, I got in the habit of doing a lot of “if onlys”. If only I’d gotten up earlier, if only I hadn’t spent so much time in that town. It’s easy to get really self-critical, especially if you start comparing yourself to other hikers. Why am I so lazy? Why am I so slow? Why can’t I get myself up, packed and on trail in less than an hour? Why does my pack still feel so heavy; why haven’t I gotten stronger? I can’t believe I wasted half an hour going down some side trail because I misread a sign; why am I so stupid? Why am I almost out of food a day before town yet again; why have I still not figured out how much food to carry between towns; why am I such an idiot?

Somewhere between miles 2000-2100, I made a promise to myself. No more feeling guilty about making mistakes on my hike. No more self-criticism or judgment allowed. Enough was enough. Only self-love. I’m just going to do my best for the rest of the hike and love myself.

I can’t say that I fully kept this promise and didn’t curse myself ever again for the rest of the hike. But I did try my best, when I felt those guilty thoughts creeping in and heard those judgmental voices making their noise, to quiet them and just tell myself that, well that’s OK. That’s OK that I slept that extra half hour. That’s OK that I sat down for a few minutes to eat my snack instead of eating it while I walked. That’s OK that I didn’t make my mileage goal for the day, yet again. That’s OK that I didn’t finish the PCT by mid-September, when I’d hoped I might.

And on my last day, I had to remind myself again that what’s done is done. I couldn’t get up earlier those other mornings because I just couldn’t. And I couldn’t have hiked any faster because I couldn’t. And even though the weather that last day was crap; the trail was muddy from recent rains, I had to climb up a snowy pass, I was cold most of the day, and maybe if I’d finished the trail a few weeks sooner, the weather wouldn’t have sucked so much for my last day… there was nothing I could do about it.

All there was left to do was love myself. Love my strong body, my amazing legs and feet that kept walking for 2,650 miles. Love my hands for preparing my meals and setting up my tent every night. Love my shoulders and hips and back, for carrying a 30ish-pound backpack up the West coast of the United States. Love my mind, for staying strong and focused when things got tough. And love all of myself, for completing this incredible feat.

So fast-forward three months… How am I doing at practicing self-love off the trail? Turns out that it’s pretty easy to get down on myself over little mistakes in everyday, non-trail life, too. Why did I impulsively buy that thing I couldn’t afford and didn’t really need? Why did I eat that third cookie? Why didn’t I finish that job application yet? I’m currently going through a bout of depression and as I fall short of the goals I set for myself each day and the urgent things I need to get done fall by the wayside, instead of beating myself up about it, I’m trying to just tell myself that’s OK; I’ll try again tomorrow, and let it go. Because when you feel like shit, and then you tell yourself that you’re a terrible, worthless, lazy human being, it only makes you feel shittier. Sometimes we have to remind ourselves that we are trying our best to move through this world and maybe it seems like we’re not doing a great job of it, but it’s all we can do at the moment.

Finally, I’ll leave you with some words from an expert. In his TED Talk “Removing Negative Self Talk”, Abria Joseph plays this really cool looking spaceship instrument and it’s amazing. And also, he says, “I believe passionately that we can shift the negative voices and stories that are going on in our minds into positive ones.” He says that when we hear one of these negative stories, we should ask ourselves three questions:

1)   Is it the truth?

2)   Is it necessary?

3)   Does it improve upon the silence?

I love that third one because well, the silence is beautiful, isn’t it?