I always seem to gain my best insights while wandering through the woods, and this past week was no different. With winter here in North America, backpacking tends to take a back seat to other endeavors. However, last week I was blessed with unexpected warmth, allowing me to run for the hills with Eros (If you didn’t know, he’s my dog and most cherished hiking companion).
As Eros has gotten older, our trips have had to change. If I’m honest, it’s been a bit of a struggle for me. I want to keep being the 20 to 30-mile-a-day duo. The pair that is left after all my friends tell me “no” when I try to rope them into some crazy hike. As a 12 ½-year-old Doberman Pinscher, he just can’t. It still affects how excited I am to get outside if I’m not careful. Why drive 4 ½ hours to the mountains when we can barely hike for 4 ½ hours? I also have an issue with not knowing what to do when there is daylight left and I can’t keep “making miles”. It’s a thing. I get up, I hike, I do long miles. It’s what I do. It’s who I am, except not really.
When I first started backpacking over two decades ago, I wasn’t that person. I was just a guy who wanted to explore nature. When I barely knew what gear I needed, I didn’t care about how far I traveled. And if I did, it wasn’t because I was a “miles guy”, it was because I was fascinated by all there was to see. In large part, that is still who I am. I am an explorer who loves making new miles in new places because every mile traveled is something yet to be seen. I’ve come to realize something else, though, as our duo miles have slowed. Miles are less meaningful than the overall experience. I’ve had to come back to the person who is just grateful to be in the woods, sleep overnight in a tent, and snuggle with my dog as he steals most of my sleeping bag. And I am grateful for it.
Over time, I think we all have a tendency to do this. We take something simple and pure about ourselves and start tying actions to it. And when we can no longer do those things, there is this sense of loss, like “who am I?” Quite frankly, we do ourselves a disservice in the process. We slowly narrow down our range of enjoyment and identity with each action we tie ourselves to.
I once heard a suggestion for social events that when someone asks what you do, you start with a hobby or passion rather than what you do for work, which I think most of us can agree is a default. Even in this, we use what we do to describe ourselves, though it does represent us more completely. It makes it easier for people to classify us. It’s also because it’s still surface stuff. Generally speaking, asking someone who they are and about their values and deeper beliefs comes later. But, we still tie so much of who we are and our worth as a person to those actions. For example, I am an entrepreneur, a hiker, a reader, a dog dad, and a coach. If you read that, you probably feel like you have a decent bead on who I am. But who I am, and who you are, is actually behind all of that. If I stopped doing any of that, I’d still be me. I’d still identify as myself, even if my external identifiers had changed.
Now this isn’t to undermine the actions and experiences you value as a result of your identity. If you love doing something, please do it as much as you possibly can, but recognize that though your actions may be indicators, they are not your identity. Who you are is a choice and a question that exists solely within yourself.
Ties are tethers. If you are only tied to what is within, you will forever be free to choose and change what exists without.