Choosing My Own Path Toward Enough
Two weeks ago, in Blog 192, I mentioned listening inward to a growing urge for more solo time. I did not realize how quickly that longing would take root. Since then, I have led a birding trip at Union Bay, taught my twelfth seminar of the year, this one on habit change, hosted a Thanksgiving dinner with seven of us around the table, and guided a 10.5 mile pre-turkey hike for nine on Tiger Mountain. The days have been full, the challenges plentiful, and the gratitude abundant. And yet a quieter truth has been running underneath everything. My feet and my spirit want more room to roam. Will I ever find “enough”? What exactly IS enough?
Rediscovering Freedom on the Trail
The clearest moment surfaced at Garfield Ledges. After a full hike with a friend to Big Creek and Otter Falls, and a warm-up loop to Oxbow Lake Loop, I felt an unmistakable pull to keep going. I’d already hiked more than ten miles, but something in me wanted elevation, solitude and a fresh challenge. I headed uphill alone and when I reached the viewpoint, instead of turning around as planned, I ventured off trail. Not recklessly, but with curiosity. I wanted a higher vantage point, a new angle on familiar mountains, a reminder that I am more than the roles I fill.
Right before I stepped off the main path, I felt a small jolt of liberation. It was the old wanderer in me, the woman who once chose paths because they called to her, not because she had a group relying on her. I wanted to explore the road less traveled. To feel physically challenged after an entire year of choosing the responsible path. And space where no one was waiting, timing or rating. Just me, my boots, my breath and the mountains.
Balancing Leadership and Self-Care
When I recalled that absolutely no one knew where I was, a quick flash of caution bubbled up, reminding me of Dave Shema’s famous “Toast” lecture from over a decade ago. Be sensible, I told myself. If you slip, you are toast. My mantra flashed in my head at the same moment, as it often does when I need it most: “I lead from the wood duck light within me. I have nothing to prove, only to trust and be.”
Freedom and caution merged as I settled into a steady, albeit much slower, rhythm upward. The lesson of the moment came quietly: there are many ways to explore while keeping safety, fun and destination in mind. I teach that as a Mountaineers leader. I was simply applying it to myself. When the route petered out at the base of a steep cliff, I knew it was a sign. Without anyone else to “have my back” this was the end of the road. And my little exploration gave me just enough “enough.”
Coming Alive
That solo stretch may have been the place I felt most vibrant and free in the past two weeks. Leading is incredibly rewarding, but it requires a different energy. When I am with a client, I am 100% focused on their problems. With a group, my responsibility is to keep others safe, warm, found, and comfortable. Their pace becomes my pace. My inner wanderer takes a back seat while the leader in me steps forward.
What gets lost is the pure liberation to follow whatever draws me. To pause for sunbeams or mushrooms. To explore a side trail, however far it may lead. Or to let my pace turn meditative or energetic or slow without worrying about anyone else getting cold or lagging behind.
Solo time gives me what nothing else can. Fresh air. Creative sparks. Mindfulness. Beauty. The ability to move at whatever pace feels right in the moment. With aging parents, an older dog, and clients facing real health challenges, I feel the weight of responsibility more than ever. I cannot fix what is happening in other people’s bodies or lives. Nor should I try. I can only support, guide and care. So, the mountains offer healing in the form of freedom. They remind me who I am beneath all of my roles, personas, and duties. And they teach me that I am enough, right now.
Gratitude for Community and Growth
Thanksgiving dinner deepened that sense of gratitude. Our gathering was the best we have had in many years, and I am still unsure whether it was the food, the conversation, the ease, the playfulness (Ping pong!) or something in me that finally softened. People keep showing up. Hikers, clients, friends, family. And I keep daring to show up for them too. The gratitude is mutual and layered.
Reflecting on this past year brings clarity. The off-trail moment was not just a whim. It was a signpost pointing toward what I want in 2026. While I may add to it, I know at its core, this coming year will bring growth, deepening community, and ever-increasing exploration of the natural world.
First, I feel excited about the workshops and courses I may create next year, ones that combine habit change, leadership, brain-based tools and the beauty of the mountains. Second, I am beginning to imagine a list of new alpine lake hikes to explore as part of a big upcoming birthday year. The wanderer in me is ready for fresh new mountain challenges. And third, I am stepping into the role of teaching and mentoring new Mountaineers hike leaders. A year ago I hoped I would earn that place. Now I have reached it.
Choosing the Road Less Traveled in the Year Ahead
Sometimes the path forward announces itself in a single moment, when the trail bends and you feel yourself choosing differently. Garfield Ledges reminded me that I am allowed to take the road less traveled, not only in the mountains but also in my work, my creativity, and my growth as a leader. Gratitude fills the journey, but courage lights the way.
While I may not yet know what “enough” looks like in the future, today I’m content to explore Big Finn Hill park with my dog. And to deepen my reflections on what “enough” means to me.
Try These
If you feel like reflecting on what “enough” means to you, try exploring these journaling prompts.
- When do I feel most like “enough” in my own life? What conditions help me recognize that truth?
- Where am I still measuring myself by doing instead of being? What might “enough” look like if I shifted the metric?
- What parts of my work, leadership, or self-exploration already reflect my strengths? How can I honor that as “enough” for right now?
I am so grateful for you, dear readers! Happiest of holidays.
