I have conquered over 1,000 miles on foot as of March 17, 2025—an astonishing feat accomplished in just 11 months, especially for someone who once despised even the thought of walking. A thousand miles through fire and ice, where dawn ignites the peaks and the moon casts shadows in the valleys. A thousand miles of rain slamming into my flesh, of winds howling like war cries through the ravines, of footsteps carving through hushed forests where even time dares not move. A thousand miles of breaking, bleeding, and rising—of tearing away everything unworthy and forging the man I was meant to be.
The Call of the Wild
I remember when I started hiking (read: I’m Hiking? No F**king Way!) back in April of 2024. I was living in Willis, Texas, but that wasn’t working anymore. I had a wake up call. I knew it was time to crush the shattered version of myself, to wipe him out completely. So, I packed up, moved to Sugar Land with an ex-girlfriend, but deep down, I knew that was just a temporary fix. The real plan was burned deep inside me the night I packed my bags in Willis, to take a sabbatical and vanish into the unknown.
So, I left it all behind—everything, everyone—and headed for parts unseen. The first steps on the trail were reluctant, uncertain, like an exile feeling foreign soil beneath his feet. The trails stretched before me, indifferent, eternal. I walked through tangled roots and shifting sands, scaling ridges that clawed at the sky. With every ascent, I tasted the raw exhilaration of conquest; with every descent, I carved my soul down to what was unbreakable.
Mountains seemed to whisper their secrets to me in the hush of the morning. I traced the veins of the earth, my path winding through emerald forests and barren rockscapes, where only the wind dared to roam. Wildlife stirred at the edges of my vision—deer frozen like statues in the mist, hawks soaring in endless spirals across the sky, the low, mournful howls of coyotes dissolving into the dusk. The elements tested me, scorched me, froze me to the marrow, but in their trial, they baptized me anew. Learn more about my sabbatical here.
Lessons from the Trail
Crossing the 1,000-mile threshold has been more than a feat of endurance—it has been a pilgrimage into life’s fundamental essence. Hiking has taught me patience, the quiet resilience of the earth beneath my feet. The mountains do not rush. The rivers do not hurry. The forest does not tremble at the ticking of the clock. Nature moves in its own rhythm, and to walk within it is to surrender to its song.
I have learned to savor the moments once lost to haste—the slow unfurling of a sunrise, the sacred hush of twilight, the way the wind carries the scent of sage and rain. These things, simple and profound, remind me of the raw beauty I once knew in my youth, working cattle outside Amarillo, Texas. Back then, I lived by the sun, by the cycles of the land, by the rhythm of hoofbeats and the whispers of the prairie. Somewhere along the way, I lost that connection. Hiking has returned it to me.
The Humbling Power of Nature
If I have learned one immutable truth, it is this: nature bows to no man. It does not care about wealth, ambition, nor pride. The mountains stand eternal, unmoved by human arrogance. Storms will rage whether you defy them or not. The cold will bite, the heat will burn, and the earth will not yield simply because you will it to. In the face of nature’s raw power, you are nothing—and in that nothingness, you find something pure.
Standing on the precipice of a great ravine a few months back while on my sabbatical, I remember staring into the endless abyss below, I was struck by a chilling recognition—it was almost like staring into the abyss of the deep struggle I had been in for so long. The weight of my past, the darkness that had once gripped me, mirrored in the sheer drop before me. But instead of fear, I felt a quiet resolve. The abyss had not consumed me. I had risen from it.
I took a deep breath, the cold wind cutting through me like a blade, and I smiled—because I had won. I had clawed my way out of the darkness, one brutal step at a time. Every aching muscle, every injury, every moment I wanted to collapse had been worth it. I felt invincible, forged in suffering, and reborn through sheer, unrelenting grit. And now, I am unstoppable—reborn and standing stronger than ever.
The Road Ahead
This is not the end. This is only the beginning. There are still paths untraveled, summits yet to be conquered, mysteries waiting in the mist. The road stretches before me, an invitation, a challenge, a promise.
What once felt like torment is now liberation. I walk now not to escape, but to embrace. I walk to feel the earth beneath my feet, the wind against my skin, the fire within my soul.
And so, I walk on.