Most weekends I attempt to convince myself to get up, leave the apartment, do SOMETHING. Prior to this summer, I had several “planned affairs” to keep me busy on the weekends but the fates have decreed that that is no longer the case and I am forced to socialize...alone.

Being alone is not a state foreign to me. I say that, not as a “poor poor pitiful me” statement, but as a statement of reality. When you have been widowed, your daughters living at opposite ends of the states, and your family busy with their own families, the life you had in your “other reality”, that one that included a husband and a house, is gone. You are forced to create a new reality. Some times that works, other times people lose themselves. Rather than lose myself, I determined to “get lost”.

That’s not to say I didn’t lose myself. I did and had to climb out of that particular pit many times. It was when I lived at the lake, an hour from anyone I knew, that I discovered the fine art of getting lost without losing. I started hiking. I would set a destination, a park or trail I hadn’t hiked, or one I particularly liked, carefully pack my ditty bag with the necessities: a first aid kit, water, a snake-bite kit, a compass, an epi-pen, a knife and a picnic. Then I would print the trail map, in case I lost the internet (as was usual), and plan my drive there. When you hike alone, planning is essential. No one is going to come find you, no one is going to even miss you until one day, someone turns and says “You know, I haven’t seen Kym in a while, wonder what she’s doing?” True story. On my return trip, I would deliberately take another route, effectively getting lost. I always carried a tent (still do!) and camping equipment in my trunk, so if I ever did become truly lost, I could find myself a suitable camping site, then try to find my way in the morning. It was a challenge using only your compass and your knowledge of local (or foreign) roads to find one’s way back to home base.

Lest you begin to think I am waxing maudlin, let me assure you, I am not. I didn’t always hike alone. On Sundays, I would meet my daughter Maggie at Busiek and we would hike from 8am until lunch and then picnic. This was the time I loved spending with my daughter the most. We would talk about everything and plan our futures, all of which entailed leaving Springfield. But then college called her away and she accomplished her self-enforced exile, those Sundays were gone. Still I kept hiking. I would sometimes hike with my friend and sister-in-law, and other times with she and my niece. But mostly, I hiked alone, setting goals and distances, rewarding myself occasionally with a meal after the hike. Finding amazing trails on my own and conquering them was an exhilaration I became addicted to.

When I moved to Ozark, and then to Springfield, my hiking began to dwindle and I began to diminish. If you are thinking that might be a reference to Galadriel, you would be right. I managed one amazing trip to Norway, taking my hiking gear with me and a plan. That plan fell to pieces, but I did get some Norwegian trails in, nonetheless. But upon my return from that trip, I began to withdraw and isolate myself. Once again, I was losing my essence, succumbing to the nothing that is alone. I forgot how good it felt to get lost in a forest, no time demands, your phone only there for pictures and the trail only there as a guide. I forgot the feeling of conquest that is arriving home, tired and sated. I lost me.

Lately, I found myself introverting more and more. I travel for a living so when I am home, I stick close to hearth and home. That’s a lie that I use as an excuse, a safety, a cocoon. I just didn’t want to make the effort to find myself. I diminished further. But one day, I woke up and couldn’t find myself. I was nowhere to be found! And I knew, then, that I had to get lost, in order to find me. I struck off for a 2 hour drive, made myself take an hour hike (which, believe me, seemed like a 6 hour hike), remembering the results of hiking the downslope in... because you have to climb the upslope UP in order to leave. I emergIed sweaty, gnats circling my head, spiders and webs tangled in my hair, with that familiar sense of accomplishment and triumph. I found me, got lost near Eminence, found 60, then took myself to dinner at WildSeed before driving myself home to gloat.

Some people may think it strange to drive nearly five hours for a 1 hour hike. But I count differently than most. I visited 2 state parks, the Current River State Park and Echo Bluff Park. I cooled my feet in the Current as well as at Slippery Rock while drooling over Jack’s Fork. I rewarded myself with two cocktails and some pimento cheese. I found myself and brought her home. I think I’m quite ready for another adventure.

Bring on hiking weather!