Why do I hike?
Why do I hike? Why do I put myself through long, painful hours of torture to the point of near exhaustion, only to repeat the whole thing over again? Why do I trek jungles and climb mountains? To really explain my relationship with the outdoors, I’m going to go way back in time. Before I really discovered what hiking meant to me and how it was slowly changing me, I was what you could call a casual hiker. I’d always been an active kid, and I loved being outdoors, playing with my siblings. I was (and still am) a competitive person, always driven by the next challenge. When your kid has a competitive streak, you encourage them to pick up a sport. So, I started out doing gymnastics when I was eight, even making it to state/national level before an injury meant I couldn’t continue. I was also a scout, which gave me a lot of time outdoors. My time as a scout laid the foundation of what would become a near-obsession. As time went on, I grew up. Schooldays came and went, and the l