Heather Anderson

> I reached a small creek [below Rae Lakes] and crossed on a convenient log, but there was no sign of the trail on the other side. Climbing up a steep slope, I wandered around before referencing the Halfmile app. It confirmed that I was on the trail. But I wasn’t. I wandered some more, finally stumbling down a slope where I found the trail. I had crossed prematurely and, in the darkness, missed the true crossing twenty feet away.

> I was done being afraid of the night, of lions, of failure—of anything. Chest heaving, I stood and stared in the direction it had gone. I roared again. When I had stepped away from the southern terminus fifty days before, it had been the biggest jump of my life. Since then, I’d felt as though I’d been falling the entire time—until that moment when I flung myself into the face of my greatest fear, ready to fight. After fifty days in freefall, I’d landed. I was the lioness now, roaming the day and night fearlessly. Willing to fight anything in my path. To take anything on, whether it be lions in the night or raging glacial rivers or the self-defeating voices that lived in the dark recesses of my own mind. I was now a living incarnation of courage.

> Being myself—and chasing my dreams—was enough. I never once thought that hiking would make the world better or change a life. Yet, it had. Thousands of people had been inspired. I had learned to accept myself for all that I was and all that I wasn’t. My calling came from the mountains and all that I needed to do to answer was put one foot in front of the other.

> I couldn’t remember the way bone-deep fatigue felt. I could no longer singularly focus my mind on a goal. Now, it ran rampant, following every passing thought. Worst of all, I was no longer fearless.… (mais)