A couple of summers ago, I hiked a portion of the John Muir Trail. I spent weeks weighing every item I took to make sure my pack was as light as possible. I debated the necessity of a cup that weighed 2 oz. I bought a 1 oz. tarp/rain jacket to save weight (with mixed results).

I thought I had done a pretty good job. The pack felt manageable on my shoulders. When I was dropped at the trailhead, I plowed down the trail, quite proud of my excellent packing job.

I hiked along like this for a few miles, full of optimism that I would be able to complete this entire trail, that my inability to train due to work commitments, my excess weight I had not had time to lose, and lack of experience were not going to be as limiting as I may have thought.

Then, I came to the bottom of the first mountain pass. I started up the trail and had to stop quickly because I was out of breath. I was struggling. I sat for awhile and then kept going. To get up that pass, I finally had to just count steps. I would try to get to 100 and would stop and rest.

When I finally got to the top of the pass and to my campsite, I felt disoriented, defeated, and despondent. I curled up in my tent and cried from exhaustion. My optimism had given way to absolute dread and a feeling that I had taken on much more than I was capable of. I considered whether I should just go back down the mountain the next day and hitch a ride home.

Instead, I got up the next morning and did a full pack assessment. I took every single thing out of my pack and tried to make a case for why I needed to carry it. I ate my breakfast and felt grateful that there was now less food I would have to carry, and by tonight after lunch and dinner, there would be even less.

I realized there were items I didn’t need as much as I thought, and others I didn’t need at this exact moment. For instance, a pair of gloves and a harness that I needed to hike Half Dome, which was days away from where I was.

At the next campsite, I gifted the items I didn’t need and sent the others back with someone to be mailed to me further down the trail. I didn’t make it all the way to end thanks to an infected cut and a realization that I had hit my limits. But, I made it about 80 miles father than I would have had I not taken stock of what was weighing me down.

WHAT DOES YOUR MOUNTAIN LOOK LIKE?

Every single person is walking through their life with a pack on their back. Some of us are lucky, walking around with packs that feel almost empty. But, for most of us, those packs are heavy, and some of us are being crushed by the weight.

I found myself struggling a lot recently and I realized that I had been carrying an extremely heavy pack for a long time. I was only starting to notice it because I had started trying to climb up mountain. For me, that mountain was starting this site. And now, it’s anxiety surrounding Covid-19 and starting a new job remotely.

Right now, people are facing whole mountain ranges of problems: Unemployment. Isolation. Anxiety. Not being able to see people you care about. Trying to work remotely and also take care of kids.

And along with that, any stress you were already experiencing: a new relationship, new job, new baby, new business, or even a lifestyle change. Quitting smoking, going vegan, working out everyday, eating less sugar, all of these things are mountains in your life in that they are a change from the status quo of how you have been living up to that point.

When I started trying in earnest to work on this blog, I found it nearly impossible, much like getting up that first mountain pass on the trail.

So, I took my “life pack” off my shoulders, dumped everything out and took a hard look at it. Turns out, I was carrying a pretty heavy load that was crushing my spirit.

I had several medical issues I was dealing with, some of which were heavier than others. Like the food I carried on the trail, this will get lighter over time as I work on getting better.

I had several financial issues I was facing, again, some heavier than others. Will get lighter over time, but have to keep carrying for now.

I also was carrying a lot of heaviness concerning both a friendship that went south and a relationship that didn’t work out the way I’d hoped. I didn’t need this. No one asked me to carry it. I was just voluntarily hauling all of it and nearly getting crushed by its weight. What do you do with something that you aren’t quite ready to toss out, but can’t deal with right now?

Bounce Your Issues Down the Trail

On the trail, there are frequently items you don’t need now but may need later in your trip. This could be food, clothing, or technical equipment. To get the weight off your back, you can put these items in a “bounce box,” and it will be waiting for you at some point further down the trail. When you get to the location, you can go through and decide then whether you need those items. It might feel like you are just postponing or procrastinating. But, what you are actually doing is prioritizing.

I pulled all of the heaviness I was feeling about these people in my life, put it in a box and “mailed” it to myself three months down the trail. I made a note in my calendar on a date three months in the future: “Think about what you want to do about X. Think about doing nothing at all. Whatever you do, take care of yourself first.”

Then, I looked at every item that had to back in the pack. Work issues, medical issues, financial issues. I picked each of them up, one by one and asked myself, “How can I make this lighter?”

I looked at every other thing happening in my life that might be slowing me down. On the trail, these things were blisters, excess body weight, and headaches. On my life trail, they were lack of sleep, alcohol, and lack of energy.

Ask yourself right now if you are comfortable with the load you are carrying. Dump everything out on the table and take a hard look.

Do you need it? Do you REALLY need it? Can you throw it out? If not, can you bounce it down the road a few weeks until you have the mental bandwidth to take another look?

I promise there is something in your pack that is best left on the side of the trail. Tossing it might be the difference between you making it to the end of whatever trail you’re on and curled in a fetal position sobbing in a tent.