By Katie Gregory

“You know,” my mum said with a cheeky grin on her face “as of January 1st vision will finally be 2020.” She was so pleased with herself and I begrudgingly giggled.  I was gearing up to go out for a hike, one of the last few I had to embark on before reaching my goal of walking 2,020 miles in 2020. My body was tired after many, many, many months of walking every single day. I was only a few days away from achieving a goal that had become part of my identity, a goal that kept me both sane and drove me crazy.  

The reaction I got when I told people about my walking goal was always the same: “what? how?! but… why?” and quite frankly I asked myself the same questions every single time I put my sore feet back into my hiking boots.

In January 2020, when we all thought Australia being on fire would be the worst of our yearly worries, the year felt new and exciting and achievable. It was in passing a friend told me about a ‘Walk The Year’ challenge.

One of my resolutions for the new year was to hike more, so this combined what I had already decided on, an exciting opportunity, and a challenge which I couldn’t pass up. On January 9th I registered with the platform, synced my Fitbit and started planning my travel year around places I wanted to hike. 

The winter months of January and February made it hard to find motivation. I started a new job and did my best to incorporate long walks home through the city. I was often discouraged by the early sunset and how truly blistering cold it was. Nevertheless, I embraced new clothing styles and bundled up to make an attempt each day at miles.

As news of coronavirus increased, and slowly countries started boarding up and requesting citizens to return home, I was met with confinement to my 400-square foot flat and the allowance of exercise for one hour outside each day. The dreams of my year of hiking-inspired travel slowly slipped away along with the closing of all State and National Parks in the US. I sat in my flat and thought “how the hell am I supposed to walk 2,020 miles this year?”

2020 miles divided by a 365-calendar year is 5.53 miles per day. That means every single day, regardless of rain, snow or sunshine, I had to walk 5.53 miles. I quickly developed a verbal tag line when my family asked if I wanted to do things with them. “Do you want to help me paint the bathroom?” “Sure, but I have to walk 5 miles today.” “Do you want to go to the shops with me today? “Would love to. Can we go after I walk 7 miles?” I absorbed this challenge as part of my identity because it required a magnitude of concentration that demanded it. I obsessively checked my Fitbit multiple times a day and often went for a ‘closer walk’ to ensure I made the day’s requirement if I was short.

I took every opportunity to add walking into my life to get extra steps. If I was focusing on walking, I didn’t have to focus on the despair of the mis-handled US response to the pandemic or my heartache over the elimination of travel from my life.

My mental health, like so many of us, took a real hit during the pandemic. The stress of what was happening in my own country combined with the worry about what was happening over the world manifested in different ways. I often felt lethargic and turned to food. In the weeks I was confined to my flat, food was the benchmark for completing another day.

The more I turned to my comfort food during the stress, the more my body changed. It was harder to get out for the one-hour daily walk and some weeks I didn’t make it out and only walked up and down the flight of stairs in my building. I knew that I needed to fuel my body in the right way to sustain my walking goal, but first, I needed to accept my body and the changes it was enduring while my mental health was adjusting to life in the pandemic.

As a wanderlust enthusiast I had to redefine what adventure meant to me and how I could manifest it in a way that felt similar to travel, whilst safely respecting the gravity of the pandemic. I often turned to Google Maps when planning trips before the pandemic to find inspiration of where to go next, how I could get there and what amazing things I could find on arrival. The pandemic-hiking-version of me found a new home with the AllTrails app which allowed me to plan out all of my hikes and even find some with spectacular lookouts.

The adventure side of me enjoyed the unknown of a new trail and the challenges it brought. I hit 1,000 miles walked on July 24th and cried in the shower. I knew I was capable but seeing the number and the changes it brought to my body made me proud of myself. In a year where surviving and perseverance were abounded, it felt nice to have something truly positive to hold on to. 

I cried often the last week of my walking adventure. My thighs were made of steel, my calves begged me with frequency to stop, my back and shoulders were exhausted by the weight of my day pack and my cheeks donned a blush-like color after being whipped by the wind. As the days got shorter and the temperatures dropped, every mile earned was a mini accomplishment. If I could survive both walking 2,020 and living through 2020, I could not expect less from my life.

I spent more hours than I care to admit walking alone and, in that time, I was able to acknowledge the parts of my life that I didn’t feel served my values and goals. Getting out into nature every day, after feeling like the light of adventure had burnt out, ignited in me the reminder that adventure and travel can be manifested in any way we so choose. The first step, of course, is getting out and looking for it.

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