Bring Back the Fanny Pack and Other Lessons from Getting Lost in the Woods

Carie ShermanBy Carie Sherman

The BFF and I recently took a hike. We got lost. Well, not really lost, per se. Let’s just call it misinformed about the direction we had taken. We didn’t have a trail map. We “kinda” remembered the name of the trail we planned to take. And we “kinda” turned a 3-mile hike into 8.

Relax. We were in Castlewood Canyon State Park. We were able to see a physical human establishment for at least half of the hike and never spent more than 30 minutes between other groups of hikers–most of whom were refreshed and beginning their hikes from the various parking lots our trail took us past. And we had plenty of water.

The park does have decent elevation gains. My guess is at least 40,000 feet.

Here’s the best part: I wore a fanny pack. It was awesome. The BFF protested but knew if she took a real stand against my fanny pack I might start reconsidering the helmet I threatened to wear because of an article I’d just read about head injuries. She’s a confident girl and can handle when I’m strange, but she does try to stop me from humiliating myself.

Anyway, chronic pain folks, take note: I always carried a backpack but it kills my back and shoulders, likely due to the terrible hiking posture that one gains when one constantly stares at one’s feet. Turns out, my hips are good for hauling. I wholeheartedly encourage you to come to the darkside. Let’s Bring Back the Fannypack!

Who am I kidding. Fanny packs probably are back, for all I know about fashion and the like.

Anyway. 8 miles. Me. If I had known it would be 8 miles, I never would have started. I haven’t gone that far since 2010. And I didn’t realize it at the time, probably because the sheer elation of not needing to call in a backcountry search party for a day hike just minutes from urban areas, but it was a big deal. I hiked 8 miles. In this body. This body that two weeks ago wouldn’t allow me to lift my arms. As you know, I have an entire blog dedicated to my body failing me.

And here’s a kicker: I could walk the next day. And the day after that. And even the days after that, which were leading up to my period, when typically all hell breaks lose and I move only when forced. My body was…good.

Now, I’m not saying that I’ve cured my mind, body, and soul here. But I learned a valuable life lesson on this hike, and it’s a lesson you can apply to just about any circumstance under the sun.

Sometimes you have to get lost. Sometimes you just have to work way harder than your brain believes you can–even if the only reason is because you were forced. If you have the desire–and someone awesome by your side–you can really surprise yourself.

I have a lot of goals right now. One in particular scares the crap out of me. I have no idea what I’m doing. But I know I have to work and work hard and rely on the crazy cool people in my life.

I might not bring back the fanny pack (assuming, of course, it’s not already back). I might whine and complain. But I’ll stay on the dang trail til the end. Because I can.

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