I completed Peekamoose and Table. The trail that took me out Saturday.
9.2 Miles
2 Summits
2,506 Elevation Gain
5.45 Hours
I came home exhausted, so damn proud and with a pizza big enough to feed a small village.
While laying in bed and bingeing OITB for the fourth time, I realized – almost as an after thought – I’ve climbed 5 of 33 Catskill High Peaks.
I wasn’t trying to. Sure, I knew the list existed. Every Catskill hiker does but I’ve never been hiking because I wanted to check off all 33 peaks.
I’ve been hiking because somewhere along the way it became the place where I learned to rebuild my life. The funny thing is – that’s how most of the good things have happened.
I wasn’t trying to become a hiker. I was trying to breathe after COVID, quiet my mind.
Trying to prove to myself I could still do hard things.
One trail became another.
One Saturday became a habit.
One mountain became dozens.
I was chasing a life that felt good to live inside of – intentionally.
That’s the funny thing about rebuilding your life. The results often surprise you, the choices don’t.
Nobody accidentally becomes healthier.
Nobody accidentally builds confidence.
Nobody accidentally wakes up at 3:45 AM to get to a trail by sunrise.
Those things are built through thousands of intentional decisions that seem almost insignificant when you’re making them.
You answer the text.
You say yes to dinner.
You write a blog post.
You take the hike.
You set the alarm.
You get up and do it all over again next weekend.
Then one day you look around and your life is full of people you love, places that feel like home and a version of yourself you barely recognize.
Not because it happened overnight. But rather, you kept choosing it.
For a long time, I think I believed a new life or new friendships or even love would arrive like lightening.
One moment.
One person.
One life-changing day.
I know now that’s not the case. Love, like the life I’ve built, will arrive in the exact same way.
Quietly.
Built through consistency, not urgency.
Through ordinary moments, not grand gestures.
One conversation.
One date.
One Saturday.
Until I look up and realize I’m no longer building this life alone.
And that’s what hope is. Believing that today’s small, intentional choice is quietly building tomorrow’s extraordinary life.
Because yesterday I didn’t just realize I’d climbed 5 of the Catskill 33, I realized I’ve been climbing toward a life I genuinely love.
One intentional step at a time.