Over the long weekend, I hiked a trail I’d never hiked before.
It was a perfect summer day, the kind of day that Mainers dream about in the dead of winter: when the wind howls through the windows, the snow swirls in frenzied circles, and the fireplace doesn’t throw off nearly enough heat.
The sun was a hot skillet on my skin. The sky was the color of robin-egg blue. The clouds puffed like white cotton candy in silent drifts.
The Vibrant Maine Coast
My friend had removed the top of his jeep for the one-hour drive to the coast. We landed—with wild, straw-like hair—at a little known part of Acadia National Park called Schoodic. Here, the national park is quiet: absent of tourist hoards, inching cars, and looming tour buses. At the new visitor’s center here, the parking lot was 90% vacant.
A park ranger gave us some hiking suggestions. When he offered us the option to buy a map for 50 cents, we gave each other the “We’ve got this” look and set off without one, too lazy to walk back to the car for two quarters.
We parked the jeep at a lookout along the coastline, bearing witness to craggy granite ledges lapped by the green-blue limitless Atlantic Ocean. It was a view that most people never get to see in their lifetimes. Even though we both grew up within an hour’s drive of here—and had seen countless views like it along the Maine coast—it was a view that never got tiresome. Our eyes inhaled the seascape as the breeze licked our faces with invisible salt air.
We found our way to the trailhead and hoofed our way up at a brisk pace up Blueberry Hill on the Anvil Trail. The trail name made me giggle and wonder if an anvil would drop from the sky like it always does on poor Wile E. Coyote (spoiler alert: one never did). Along the trail, the summer breeze carried the alternating scents of pine needles and seaweed, in the way that only the Maine air can.
The Fuel of Vibrancy
Along the trail I silently gave thanks for my vibrant body and mind. For so many years—decades—I’d abused my body with sugar and white foods. I’d suffered from joint pain, excess weight, and intense food cravings, never making a connection to what I was eating and how I was feeling. Now, at mid-life, I finally understood. I’d slowly made changes to my diet and lifestyle. As a result, I felt better than ever. Stronger. More fit. Healthy.
I thanked my mitochondria—those subcellular rocket boosters in every living organism that convert nutrients into energy—because if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t feel this alive. I gave thanks for their ability to regenerate and heal. For so long, I’d unintentionally crippled them, choking them off from their ability to do their jobs. Thank God they knew how to reverse course.
My friend and I descended Blueberry Hill by taking a different trail than we’d climbed up. Thankfully, we were well-matched when it came to the trails, with neither of us liking to lope along. Our bustling clip eventually led us to a gravel carriage road with a fork in the road. With no map to follow, we had no choice but to follow our noses and intuition. Three miles later, we found our way back to the jeep, feeling weary but also alive, energized, and accomplished.
This energy, this sense of ALIVE. THIS is what I want for my clients. THIS is what I want to inspire. It’s not change for the sake of change itself, but to help my clients FEEL this vibrancy; this vibrancy that everyone can access. Finding the way is a majestic form of self-love.
It’s Never Too Late
If you feel overweight, sluggish, or sick, it’s not too late. Your cells want to heal. Your brain wants to thrive. Your body wants to move.
If I can do it, you can too. Get started.