There’s something special to be said about the last-minute, irrational decisions that lead to wild adventures. The late nights in college that turn into all-nighters on the deck of the lake or the whim of an unplanned road trip for something like deep dish pizza. The list of things that I’ve done with little discernment or deep thought is unregrettably long, however there is a recognizable enjoyment to be had for those occurrences that come along only after extensive dreaming or planning. This week marks one of my most anticipated planned adventures to date.

I’ve wanted to hike the Grand Canyon for many years, which obviously landed itself a spot on my lifetime bucket list. I’ve road tripped across the country multiple times, often passing within hours of the canyon, but never taking the trip detour to see one of our country’s most beautiful landscapes. Last year, a late night text message conversation between my college roommate and good friend, Adam, and I brought us down a long path of ideas and questions about the hike. Since college, Adam has digested more literature on Theodore Roosevelt, a die-hard naturalist and outdoorsman, than you could even imagine. I remember sitting in his front yard on a warm summer afternoon with a bowl of cereal, two lawn chairs, and our first attempt at birding, inspired by one of Roosevelt’s favorite past-times. Sure, we weren’t studying taxidermy, but we were enjoying an alternative to video games, addictions to LOST, and hyper-competitive intramural sports that often got the best of us.  When it came to thinking about someone who would go after an adventure as big as the Grand Canyon, it was certainly Adam, especially given that he and his wife had moved out to Phoenix last year.  Over the course of the last 9 months, Adam and I exchanged many messages about a hike through the canyon. It became a topic of every phone call. In November, it was just an idea with minimal validation with a bunch of inspirations and input from Donald Miller and his writings in “Through Painted Deserts”. But as we looked into permits and camping regulations, I found myself aimlessly wandering around the interblogs in search of a good plan for us. In February, conversation heated up as Adam’s friend Wes was planning on leading a trip himself to the GC. Perfect, right?

I thought so. Until I realized his plan was to hike a rim-to-rim-to-rim, one of the most grueling hikes imaginable. But, even more wild was his desire to do it a single shot, approximately 24 hours of straight hiking. I glanced at the text conversation twice, in which fear immediately seeped through my words, hidden by subtle “hahas” or extensive lines of periods. I accepted the offer to let Wes, an avid hiker and frequent canyon visitor, lead us on the journey. And so it began; training started simple, with the already-established plan of running casual 5Ks at the gym, lifting every few days, and doing everything that I was already doing in hopes of maintained health. But two months ago, beast mode commenced as I sat up at my desk late one night, reading countless horror stories about rim-to-rim encounters (knowing we were adding an extra rim). I was hearing a lot about snakes, spiders, and even hallucinations, which populates the top few ‘fears of my life’ list. And here I was, choosing this as my Fall vacation.

Over the last month, I said goodbye to the treadmill and pursued a much-better approach to preparation, visiting the various MetroParks of Columbus; while they struggle to provide elevation and certainly no mountainsides to practice on, I found myself fully engaged with beautiful places, all within striking distance from my apartment in Grandview. A massive, “who knew?” erupts from the people I see day-to-day in the coffee shop or around Columbus. It’s been an entirely reflective process for me, to be out on the trails alone, processing a seemingly endless train of thoughts. I’ve soaked in self-reflection about my current season of life, engaged in deliberately extensive prayers, often just to get into a rhythm of talking to the Lord about each and everything that I experience, and then embraced those moments where the headphones come off and you let nature make itself known through the sights and sounds from all directions. I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on the many changes that have come and gone in this past year since moving back to Columbus. And, this week, I noticed an interesting trend in my quiet, down time related to the amount of time I spend out on the trails. I’m writing more at a quicker pace, but in less frequency. My eyes have been opened to opportunities, thought processes, and ideas that would have been dismissed in a hot second beforehand. And the reality is that this trip couldn’t have been planned for a better time in my life. The trail time has become a new method of creativity, release, and inspiration for me.

And lucky for me, I’ve got a pretty huge trail coming ahead of me in just 5 days. I arrived in Phoenix late this evening and have just a few days to get acclimated to the elevation, heat, and other changes in environment. But one thing is for certain: I’m never getting used to tarantulas or rattlesnakes.