Two Years, One Trail, and a Wake-Up Call

Today marks two years since I took one of the biggest “why not?” leaps of my life.

The Journey Begins

Two years ago, I stumbled upon a group of girls on social media. They had just started something called the Tennessee Hiking Club. I didn’t know them, and they didn’t know me. But I decided to show up one day and meet them.

That one decision turned into one of the greatest leaps I’ve ever taken.

I didn’t know if I’d fit in. I just knew I missed something. Hiking had always been mine.

Even before the club, I was out there. I was cave crawling — yes, cave crawling — even though I have claustrophobia. That’s how active I was. That’s how determined I was to live fully after everything that happened in 2019.

Facing Challenges

Waterfalls. Trails. Mud. Elevation gain. I chose adventure over fear.

But then, depression and PTSD started catching up to me. Not all at once. Not dramatically. Just slowly.

It became easier to stay home. Easier to cancel plans. Easier to say, “maybe next time.”

I shifted my focus hard into mental health. Therapy. Doctor appointments. Processing trauma I had pushed down because survival mode didn’t give me space to feel it.

That season was necessary. But while I was rebuilding mentally, I slowly stepped away physically.

A Wake-Up Call

This week, on my two-year hiking anniversary, I felt it. I got dizzy. Lightheaded. I couldn’t finish the hike.

And I realized something: The strong, cave-crawling, waterfall-chasing version of me doesn’t just exist automatically. She requires maintenance.

It’s where I go to hear the wind moving through trees. The annoying bugs that somehow sound peaceful when you’re deep in the woods. The steady rhythm of water rushing over rocks. And if there’s a waterfall? I’m choosing that trail every single time. No questions asked.

Waterfall hikes over everything.

For two years, the Tennessee Hiking Club has been part of my rhythm. Part of my healing. Part of my rebuilding. But today was different.

Today, on my two-year anniversary hike, I couldn’t finish. I started getting dizzy. Lightheaded. That familiar feeling that makes you question your body before your brain even catches up. And I had to stop.

The Hard Truth

Here’s the hard truth: I drifted. Somewhere along the way, I veered away from my physical health. I slowly stepped back from the gym, from the trails, and from the consistent work that helped rebuild me after 2019. I focused heavily on my mental health — and that mattered. I needed that season.

But I can see it now. I’ve regressed.

My neuro rehab physical therapist always told me: “If you don’t keep up with the work, you will regress.”

And I nodded. But today? I felt it.

I am supposed to have double knee surgery at some point. The only reason I’ve been able to delay it is because of strength training, stretches, and staying active. Yes, I know it’s technically “better” to do surgery younger. But going back under? That still scares me.

2019 scared the absolute life out of me. And feeling unstable on a trail again lit something up in me. Not fear. Determination.

Reclaiming My Strength

I did not fight that hard. I did not relearn my body. I did not claw my way back from brain surgeries and immobility… just to slowly let it slip because I got comfortable.

I didn’t come this far to throw it away.

I have waterfalls to chase. Miles to hike. Memories to make. I have stuff to see and do.

So, this post? It’s accountability. To myself. To this community. To anyone new here who’s following along. Hold me to it.

Because I will be damned if I don’t make happy memories while I can. It’s time to get back to work. It’s time to rebuild the endurance. Strengthen the knees. Stabilize the dizziness. Get back under the waterfalls.

Two years in. And this is not the end of the trail. This is just the moment I decided to start climbing again.

So, just like in an old post - I think literally when I revamped this years ago... Hike more, worry less is obviously the motto.

With love,

CT