Take a Hike

 “Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.”

- John Muir

An interesting quote, and one I've been lucky enough to live by over the course of my life. Endless hikes through backyard canyons, bridge-side cliffs, green Colorado mountains, and Texas hill country have gifted me many memorable moments in nature. Whether it's half a mile long or a whopping fourteen, those moments with your feet in the dirt are so important.

Harvard Medical School even suggests we can simply hike our way to better health. A 2022 study claims "A jaunt through the woods can boost your fitness, your balance, and your mood." The article goes on to explain the many intricate benefits of walking on dirt:

• Uneven terrain trains muscles for stability and strength
• Cardiovascular health improves thanks to the interval-style training
• Research has shown that the Japanese practice of shinrin-yoku ("forest bathing"), which encourages a slow enjoyment of nature, produces measurable physical changes.
• Reduce the amount of cortisol (our stress hormone)

Oak Mott Trail, FWNC

It's no secret that we thrive with some time in the sunshine. It gets us off our screens and connected to the ground beneath us. The dirt reminds us where we come from, and where we will eventually return. The trees hug us around the trails to shade and protect us. We ponder if we are truly the conquerers of earth or merely annoying inhabitants.

Occasionally a buzzing bee or leggy spider will cross our path. We'll swat at it and shriek and immediately be overcome with guilt. We're trespassers after all - visitors at best - and we just crushed a local between our thumb and pointer finger without a second thought. Perhaps dinosaurs felt quite the same in regard to us.

A bunny will race across the trail, too quick for a picture. We watch it through leafy bushes as it hunkers in the shadows. Time urges us onward but we think of the adorable face and twitching hind legs for another five minutes at least.

Mostly though, we admire the flowers. Patches and clumps and clumsy gatherings of Bluebonnets stretch along the dirt. They are fluffy and bright and sacred. Bea reminds us it's illegal to pick them, not that we contemplated it. They seem to thrive here in the grassland, unlike their highway-side counterparts. Bea laments the privet creeping nearer to the blooms, its greedy thorns eyeing the flowers without the laws we humans abide by. 

After two hikes through the nature center trails, I am thankful for my brief exit from the world. Senior year is simply a longer list of to-do's than ever before. Some good, some bad, all stressful. It's nice to flex a muscle beside my mind for a few hours every week. To sweat and work for nothing other than myself.

Here are a few more highlights from the last few journeys: