I really miss hiking this summer. It drives me crazy that it's not an option for me right now. It's not that I'd call myself an expert hiker or even that I go all the time, but it's something I really like to do. I've gone on hiking vacations. I'm planning to go on more in the future. But this summer, because of the stupid sprained ankle (see elsewhere on this blog), I can't just take off and go to the Palisades or Ramapo Forest for a day, let alone plan anything further away. (The ankle is mostly better, but not totally yet, and it's just not worth the risk.) So for now I'm stuck not hiking.
I never thought of myself as remotely athletic until I discovered that I liked hiking. Team sports were never my thing. In elementary school, I played softball for three years, mostly because my friends were all doing it - which is usually the worst reason to do anything, but softball is a relatively innocent pastime. I was terrible, as I was at most sports. I spent almost all of my time standing in the outfield, drawing pictures in the dirt with my shoe. So even when something occasionally did come my way, I was usually unprepared. Once, I caught a fly ball because it landed in my glove. I didn't tell anyone that I hadn't been remotely expecting it! I wasn't great at hitting the ball, either. I would hit occasionally, probably by pure accident. Once I hit it really hard. It went flying out over the field, and I went running, elated, toward first base. Halfway there, I promptly fell flat on my face into the dirt. I cried, and they let me stay on first base, though I think I was technically out. I think I was around 7 or 8 at the time. In spite of my dragging them down, my team came in first place in our little league division the first year I played, and I still have the big trophy they gave to everyone, but I assure you it was not earned on my part.
They say that playing sports is supposed to be good for girls - that it helps them build confidence and practice things like cooperation and teamwork, and healthy competition. I would say that is true for some girls. For those not naturally athletic, who actually dread participating in team sports, being part of a team can be a nightmare. My first year playing softball was OK, despite my lack of natural ability. A bunch of my friends were on the team, and no one was seriously competitive yet. I did have moments of fun sitting on the bench with my schoolmates and going to Dairy Queen for ice cream after the game, or hitting the candy stand right before. But after that, my experiences on team sports were almost entirely negative. I was *always* picked last for things in gym class. Even things I didn't necessarily suck at, like kickball. It hurt. And I think now, if I'd been signed up for extracurricular things I may have done well at, like drawing or writing or language classes, I would have gotten that confidence boost that they say playing sports gives kids, and girls especially. As it was, team sports made an already shy kid even more self-conscious. It also didn't help that my gym teacher didn't like me. But - once we were told to run and walk a bunch of laps around the gym, and though I wasn't the fastest, I was one of the only students to complete the task. It was one of the only times I remember that teacher complimenting me on anything. But I didn't know walking was a viable sport back then.
In middle school, though, something good happened. I finally overcame my fear of deep water and learned to be a half-decent swimmer. I was so excited to pass my deep water test in seventh grade. My gym teachers - two women who team-taught - didn't emphasize competition so much as developing fitness skills and learning proper techniques for whatever athletic pursuit we were trying. It's not a coincidence that I actually got good at certain things during those years. We did things like aerobics and jump-rope and climbing exercises. We learned how to stretch and breathe properly. I don't think we ever played a team sport. It was great! I still didn't love gym class, but I didn't mind it and sometimes I even enjoyed it. I even got involved in a temporary program that aimed to get girls interested in golf. I didn't especially excel at it, but it wasn't traumatizing, and I still know how to at least hold a golf club.
In high school, though, things regressed. My gym teacher was older than dirt. He had taught my dad at the same school decades before. He would have us do things that meant he didn't have to do much of anything but stand around and watch. I remember being forced to play volleyball, and classmates actually getting angry because I (admittedly) sucked at it. Fortunately, subsequent gym teachers were even less interested. My friend and I would go into the weight room and play Connect Four. Occasionally we played table tennis, which I kind of enjoyed. As long as we were doing something and stayed out of their way, we got A's. My senior year, I rather stupidly joined the team for the girl's "powder puff" football game (I can't even believe how offensive that name is, but we didn't think much about it at the time). We played one game, juniors versus seniors, during homecoming week. I probably shouldn't even count this as athletic involvement. It wasn't, really. It was a lot of running around, and once I fell during practice and got the wind completely knocked out of me. Our "coach," who was a social studies teacher, was angry when we lost and said he wasn't going to coach the following year because he didn't like losing. Nice.
So that was my life in sports for a long time. My college didn't have a phys ed requirement, and I certainly didn't miss it. But slowly, over the next couple of years, I discovered walking. I didn't think of it as a sport. It started out, probably, in just going on long walks around campus with a friend or two. The following year, when I studied in Rome, I would find myself walking around the city, semi-aimlessly, for hours and hours at a time. And then in 2001, I spent a month on an island off the west coast of Ireland. I was doing archaeological field work (looong story), but part of the program I was on involved excursions to archaeological sites around the island. So that was the first time I did real hiking. I loved it. It didn't even matter where we were headed. The fresh air, the boggy ground, occasionally getting rained on, and feeling every step in my legs at the end of the day over a pint of cider (I hadn't yet developed a taste for Guinness) - it felt good. Not to mention, the scenery was beyond breathtaking. Even so, I didn't do much more hiking after that for a few years, other than taking long walks in the park and around NYC. That changed in 2008, when I ended up going to the English Lake District for a conference. I went on some of the hiking excursions, and even took myself on a solo one, where I got lost and caught in the rain, and had a fantastic time.
Two years later, I planned one of the best trips of my life. A college friend and I hiked Scotland's West Highland Way - 96 miles over six days. It was tough, and we spent one entire day getting rained on, but by the end we felt so proud of ourselves! Since then, I've taken up hiking locally, mostly to trails I can reach by public transportation. Last summer, I scaled my first real mountain, Switzerland's Mt. Pilatus, at 7,000 feet. It's not massive as mountains go, but it felt like an accomplishment for me!
So why hiking? I like it because it's not a competition, though it is possible to set goals and strive to meet them. (And I actually do have something of a competitive nature that only comes out on occasion - but because I'm so terrible at team sports, it doesn't do well there). When I do meet a goal, it really does feel like I've done something worthwhile. My body is sore but happy. My head is clear. I get the confidence boost I never got from playing softball. It's a nice way to spend a day with a friend or two as well, if they're into it. I also love taking pictures, and so I often combine hiking and photography, though this only works when it's not raining (the Lake District killed my camera). It's also a great way to get to know new places. My memories of Switzerland, Scotland, Ireland, and the Côte d'Azur are all richer from having walked there and having dealt with the landscape for good or ill. I even feel I know NYC and the surrounding area better for having walked through it. There are moments when I'm hiking up a steep hill and I'm absolutely miserable. I ask myself why I do it. What sane person puts herself through such torment? But when I reach the summit, I know why. And I know I'll be back for more.
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