One Step at a Time: Hiking, Healing, and Finding Myself on the Trail

I didn’t start hiking because I was outdoorsy.

I didn’t grow up dreaming of climbing Everest or chasing peaks.

I started hiking because, quite frankly, I needed something different.

Something that felt like a break from the usual routine.

Something that might strengthen my body and introduce me to people who felt like community, not competition.

Today marked something special - my first hike, not just as a hiker, but as the organizer of a group I started: Wandering Dickenson County.

Just us, the trail, and a quiet kind of healing

And you know what? Only one person (and her granddaughter) showed up.

But this isn’t a story about numbers.

It’s a story about connection.

About showing up - for ourselves, for each other, and for the messy, healing magic that happens when we lace up our sneakers and choose to move forward anyway.

Somewhere between the dust and the shaky legs, beneath a sky too big to carry our worries, I think we both started to find pieces of ourselves we didn’t know were missing.

We hiked two miles in and two miles back out at Cranes Nest. Let me tell you - the “back out” part wasn’t for the faint of heart. But we laughed, we caught up, we swapped stories and shared steps.

What we expected to be a group hike turned into something quieter, more personal - less of a crowd, and more of a communion.

I have a feeling hiking is going to earn its place in my mental health toolkit - my therapy with a view.

Some days it’ll be a joyful march.

Others, a slow, quiet trudge.

But always healing.

Every trail has something to teach me - even if it’s just how strong my legs (and spirit) really are.

Starting this group wasn’t about building a brand or chasing milestones.

It was about building belonging.

A reminder that healing doesn’t have to be loud - and growth doesn’t always require a crowd.

Sometimes it just takes:

One step.

One friend.

One quiet path through the woods.

And that’s enough.