Today I turned 40 years old with a bottle of champagne and my family on a summit overlooking the North Cascades. We kicked off the weekend on the Pacific Crest Trail at Harts Pass near Canada. The PCT was the first “big girl” trail I hiked after moving to Seattle in 2013. Spending time in complete silence (for hours) was a first for me. It truly changed my life. When I finally grew comfortable paying attention without immediately reacting, I was really able to listen and see life around me in a way I never had before. If someone asks what really led to the end of my career, it was an internal shift I have a hard time describing but ultimately resembles self-awareness, and it probably began on the PCT. I met several through hikers this weekend who started at the Mexico border and were almost done. I asked what they planned to do after such an accomplishment. “Go home and get back to work,” most said. At first it seems anticlimactic but I remember Trent Peterson, a young man whose story I told years ago, as he rode wild mustangs along the PCT. He used to say that the PCT is just a trail, what matters is that we slow down, pay attention and see clearly whatever path we’re on. I looked up a quote from that report to share with you all.
“This isn't to advocate for the PCT. The PCT is just a trail. Get out of the rat race and slow down. Pay attention to the little things, not just the big things, because it's the whole picture we need to be aware of," he said.
We drove to a new town in Maine so I used my travel tip for healthy food: look up where you can buy raw milk. It worked again! And this time with a farm tour as added bonus.
Big news: Lynn graduates from college on Sunday! So we are in New England for the ceremony. I did a quick search for raw milk yesterday while traveling to Maine, called the store when we landed to confirm, and BOOM, the rest is nutrient dense history.
When I was in TV news, my mornings were a race against the clock. Wake up, slam a cup of coffee, walk the dog, shower, speed to the editorial meeting (for which I was always late). Now, it’s easy to carry that same intense spirit & overlook the beauty of a morning farm chore routine, taking for granted the invaluable time with my kids, the warm sun, the fresh air, the silly animals. I try to remind myself as often as possible to walk slower, breathe deeper, and smile more. Honestly it’s not a chore routine. It’s a blessing. It’s really a beautiful day, everyday.