Hiking journal prompt : What are you running away from out here?
There’s something about stepping onto a trail that feels like coming home. The air changes. The noise quiets. The mind unclenches. Hiking, for me, isn’t about escaping. And it’s about belonging somewhere the rest of the world seems to have forgotten. When I head into the woods, I’m not running from life; I’m walking straight into it. Every sound, every smell, every touch of sunlight through the trees reminds me what it means to be here.
The Misunderstood Prompt
I’ve seen the prompt a dozen times:
“What are you running away from?”
And every time, I roll my eyes.
Because I’m not running.
I’m walking and it is done intentionally, deliberately into something better.
People seem to think hiking or wandering into the woods must be about escape. About running from stress, pain, or responsibility. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Some of us aren’t escaping; we’re returning.
Hiking as Connection, Not Escape
Nature has never been about avoidance for me. It’s about connection. It’s where I can breathe air that doesn’t taste like electricity and exhaust. It’s where I can hear my thoughts echo off canyon walls instead of drowning in noise. It’s where I process. And not because I’m hiding, but because I can.
Why I Hike
There’s something about standing at the base of a waterfall, water roaring louder than any voice in your head, that reminds you how small and infinite you are all at once.
Or the way a rock formation curves like Earth sculpted itself out of curiosity.
The clear streams, the swimming holes nobody’s touched but the wind, the silence that hums with life. It all of it feels like beauty that demands presence, not avoidance.
The Joy of Simplicity
And you know what else? It’s inexpensive joy.
It doesn’t always require subscriptions, equipment, or luxury.
It typically asks only for time and attention: two things society has taught us to ration like currency.
We live in a world that keeps us glued to screens, boxed inside jobs that drain more than they fill. Hiking is rebellion in motion. It’s choosing to step out of that cycle. And not to run from it, but to remember what living actually feels like.
Not Running Away—Running With It
So no, I’m not trying to escape anything.
I’m not running from the world.
I’m running with it.
Every step on a trail, every rock I turn over, every scent of pine or honeysuckle that stops me in my tracks, is a reminder that I belong here. That we all do.
So next time you see someone wandering deep into the trees, don’t assume they’re lost or running away. Maybe they just know something you’ve forgotten:
The wilderness doesn’t demand reasons.
It only asks that you show up.
Walking beside memory
It’s also something that connects me deeply to my mother. Hiking was something we both loved, together and apart. Some of my favorite memories are of us out on trails, discovering wildflowers, or stopping just to listen to birds we couldn’t name. Now that she’s gone, hiking has become something sacred. It’s how I reach for her when I can’t call her. It’s how I feel closest to her… on those quiet trails where the world slows down enough for me to remember her laughter, her patience, and the way she always pointed out the smallest, most beautiful things I might have missed.
Hiking isn’t about distance, it’s about depth.
It’s not an act of escape; it’s an act of return. Out there, I remember who I am and where I came from. I find my mother in the wind, my peace in the rivers, and my purpose in the rhythm of my own steps. So no, I’m not running away. I’m finding my way home, over and over again.
