Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes, and where they’ve taken you.

Early in my 30’s, the idea of adventure and hiking crept back into my life after an absence. For years, I was awash in school, a new career, marriage, babies and moving too many times. When the dust settled, I yearned for the mountains. My first step was to work a little extra and earn some money for new hiking boots. I remember pocketing the money a little at at a time and then combing throught the REI catalog trying to find a deal that could work. Then one day I found them just sitting there on the page, leather with vibram soles and water proof, gloriously on sale. We were living in Yakima, and I think we made a trip over the mountains to Seattle just for the occasion: Asolo boots, with extra laces and special polish to keep them in good condition.

I broke them in over miles of walking. I loved the leather and how it molded to my feet. I so valued the ankle support, the soles that stuck to the earth, and the comfy insoles. They were my prize: the most precious hiking possession.

Over the next twenty years, these boots took me all over the Northwest, and they were my constant companions on weekend adventures, vacations and hikes of all types. Honestly, they never let me down: No leaks, no significant falls, and no turned ankles. They were there for significant moments of my life: times of vulnerability and learning self compassion. They were there when I just walked on… pounding my stress, and anxieties into the earth.

I tried climbing mountains for a time: Mt Stuart, Mt Adams and Mt Rainier. I never made it to the top. I learned that I had a problematic fear of falling, and this kept me from continuing on. I’ll never forget the moment when I was a few thousand feet from the top of Mt Stuart, and I just had this vivid realization. I waved everyone else on and let them know that I would wait right there for them to return on their way down. My stomach was a mess and I felt sick from the stress of seeing and feeling the tension of mountain climbing: the precipitous fall that could happen any moment and the horrible fact that you drag others with you down that slope. There was a ledge, amazingly steep with spiky rocks pointing up at me from below. We were just dangling there with our boots kicking footholds in the slope to keep us from plunging to our doom. I made it across, thanks in large part to my boots and hiking poles, but I literally was singing “Jesus loves me”, with tears rolling down my cheeks. I couldn’t help but seeing my kids and wife in my minds eye, crying at the loss of their father and husband. So, I dug out a hole in the snow in the next section of the climb, set up a little tarp to protect me from the wind, and sat. I realized that this was all just a voluntary activity. I was trying to do something that I really did not need to do. Conquering the actual activity was not required for me to move on in life, grow, or be who I wanted to be. I cried my eyes out, accepting myself for who I was, and also that the journey was the goal. Reaching the top of the mountain was not really all that important.

I took this picture from that perch. My boots were hanging there in front of me, dug in to keep me from sliding down the steep slope. I felt content.

Where have these boots taken me? Over 20 years of hiking and exploring. I couldn’t even name all the places and miles… Parts of the Wonderland trail, parts of the Pacific Crest Trail, national parks all over the West, beaches… all of which added to my new coping skill. My meditation and peace. Hiking in these boots became a healing place for me, and I am so grateful for the steps that have brought me safe thus far.