Foiled, Successful....or both?!

Last year I was at a women’s business event, and the topic of my hiking mileage goal came up. I shared that I was 4 miles away from achieving my goal (275 miles hiked in 2024) and was met, not with congratulations, but with pressure. It was fascinating the intensity of the group: “You should do 290 next year!” “No, 300!” “I think you should go over 300, for sure!”

A few days later, I was discussing my difficulty with the pressure and trying to sort why I hadn’t been able to just cheerfully agree to increasing the goal. My hiking partner and I determined that the pressure felt so off because we aren’t actually hiking to constantly pursue “more.” Rather, we have values of fitness and longevity and hope to be hiking (hopefully together!) well into our 70’s and 80’s.

As a result of our conversation, we changed the goal to “200 miles hiked each year for the next 20 years,” and planned to shoot for 250 in 2025. It’s been wonderful hiking this year with my hiking partner, lovely also hiking with other friends, enjoying incredible scenery and interesting wildlife. I was proudly posting on social last week about only having 28 miles left to go and had a plan to hike 3 miles

with my family before Thanksgiving.

I had a plan. A plan that I really liked. What I wasn’t planning on was breaking my toe last Tuesday night after smashing my foot on the bottom lip of a cabinet in my kitchen.

This was NOT the plan.

I was supposed to enjoy Thanksgiving with my family, supposed to introduce my parents to a great little hike, supposed to stand all day in the kitchen cooking on Thanksgiving. All of these “supposed to’s” are very difficult with a broken toe and bruised foot.

How fitting that the current chapter in my Stoic philosophy book is on acceptance. How charming that the bulk of my work these days is all about increasing acceptance and resilience. How delightful that I have good information and tools. How difficult it is to sometimes put these tools into place.

I’m spending my time before Thanksgiving with my foot propped up, my sweet Mom did most of the cooking, and we didn't go on a grand adventure in the woods. Instead, we stayed home, having a quieter time, reading and relaxing instead of doing The Plan. I focused on breathing and forgiving myself, taking care to deal with the reality I have, pulling my thoughts back when they drifted into what was “supposed to” happen.

So, you tell me: was I foiled, successful or a little bit of both? I think both.