The only way to truly experience the wilderness is to stand still and start paying attention. Once you get moving you start missing stuff. No matter how much we imagine ourselves as being outdoors people, as long as we’re hiking we’re not really part of the outdoors — we’re just passing through it.

Like a lot of people who got into hiking for fitness (I lost 35 pounds), I’m a trail accountant, always trying to improve times, lengthen distances. Truth is, though, I could just as well be exercising on stadium stairs; it’s not like my quadriceps need to know what the terrain looks like.

When I’m on trail, I tend to keep moving till I’m too tired to go on. I’ll sit on a dead tree, wait to catch my breath, maybe munch on a granola bar or rub my feet, but as soon as my batteries feel recharged, I’m back on the move. But I can’t help remembering the sensation of sitting still, listening to the breeze, the critters crackling in the underbrush, the woodpeckers smacking tree trunks, the buckeyes landing with a hard knock. That’s nature, folks, and even walking at my snail’s pace is too fast to experience it.

Hiking is all about how far we can go; but maybe it also ought to be about how many times we can stop.