I hike. It's something I love to do. And no I'm not telling you the cliche, "it's the journey, not the destination." I love the destination. There is no better feeling than pushing yourself so hard, sweat dripping down your face with 40 pounds on your pack, and finally reaching the top and in the distance you can see exactly where you started. Even though I hike, I'm not exactly good at it. I'm not in physical peak condition and I'm definitely not the most rugged guy out there, even if my family and friends could contest to that due to my scraggly beard and "man bun."

But man, the first time I reached a peak I never felt more proud of myself. Not because I was physically able to do the 12 miles or nine miles of hiking it took to get to the peak, but I felt a sense of purpose. Purpose is something that comes in such sparse moments in our lives, especially as college students. My purpose that day was to get from one point to the other its as simple as that. For someone who has no idea of what he wants to do or how to do it, a sense of purpose is always a good thing. With my head held high and my life now "filled with purpose," all I wanted to do was sit down, take my pack off, and enjoy the view.

What felt like minutes of gazing ended up being hours. But, how interesting can me feeling a sense of purpose be? Psh, not very, you know what is though? Me falling on my face with 40 pounds on my pack or running out of water six miles into a 12-mile hike! Both of these have something in common, they happened to me on my short trek of the popular Appalachian Trail.

Let me just put my story into perspective, I attempted a section of the Appalachian Trail with no training and absolutely no idea of what I was doing. I didn’t know what to bring or how scared of bears I should be, I just wanted to learn some "wisdom." But what does that even mean? I wanted to derive some kind of meaning from my travels, like it would enlighten me in some way. I had hope that there was a pre-determined path that would guide me to a end goal that would help me reach success. I vividly remember one my first days in the high ridges of Mt. Washington. After the first 6 miles I was exhausted and angry, definitely ready to quit.

My friend and I weren’t making fast enough time to reach our shelter before dark, and we came to a crossroad, which was the last main road for at least 45 miles. We thought if this six miles was so hard how can we expect ourselves to do 14 miles in a day, but the way we said included many more profanities. We had to make the decision if we should continue on or to try to make a new plan. With rain pouring down on our heads, and no water left, we finally we decided to walk to a location where we could try and recollect our thoughts, and figure out what to do about the trip we had been anticipating for months on end.

Once we realized this may be the end of our trip I felt pity and rage, even to the point of wanting to punch the wall because for God's sake didn’t I DESERVE to earn or learn some kind of wisdom from the short time I wanted to hike? Didn’t God or some benevolent power owe it to me because of my struggles to give me something to take away. The answer is no. I was searching in the wrong place. Instead of searching, I needed to remember why I love hiking, and enjoy the once in a lifetime experiences the Appalachian Trail has to offer.

So 10 minutes ago, when I was going through my journal from my travels, I realized, even though the beginning of travels were rough, I may have actually learned something from hiking a total of two weeks on the Appalachian Trail, spanning from New Hampshire and then, Connecticut into New York. I was able to sum it up into four key points.

1. Retracing your steps isn’t a bad thing, but remember to look for signs of the right direction.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten lost while hiking. One time even going off the path for a half a mile because I wasn’t paying attention. I finally realized it was the wrong direction when the path turned into me getting hit in the face with branches and brush was everywhere. So, I had to go back and retrace myself to find the markers on the trees to relocate the trail. I couldn’t go forward because there was no path in that direction just more forest.

And of course I could try to make my own path, but I wasn’t trying to get poison ivy... It's OK to look back at things behind you, and maybe feel you took the wrong route, because I for one know I have and will never have a good sense of direction.

So it's OK to take a few steps back, because maybe it won’t be debilitating, but show you a new path that before you would have never seen because of how narrow minded you were being. Paths are everywhere, but the one you take is your own, and back pedaling is definitely useful when you get lost because it can help you regain your center of balance.

2. Maps are great, and can always help you (and I advise you use one on the trail), but they don’t account for the many things that are out of your control.

I. Love. Maps. Without a map I probably would’ve died or walked right into a trail that was filled with poison ivy and scary animals. But, the map I had was old and not updated. So it wasn’t always right about how far something was away or where a watering hole was, and I couldn’t really account for new trees in the ground, or where a new river had formed I just had to deal with it. I remember when we were still hiking in New Hampshire, on one of our rougher days, the map made the elevation of our day not seem too high, and we were pretty hyped about that. But as we came to see, the map was very wrong. We literally scaled rocks wall with our forty pound packs on, and I must say I don’t advise that unless you're an idiot like me and my friend, or you're trained to do so. I know, having a road map of your life is great. You want to go to college, get a 4.0, go to law school, med school, or grad school, then get married and make lots of money. Those things are all nice and good, but they don’t account for all the struggles or events that come up in front of you that can change your road map and path drastically. Possibly you change majors, or change schools. Maybe you fall in love. Or maybe you learn you don’t want to go to college, and want to travel the world. Or, you win the lottery (I wish!) It doesn’t matter what it is, but things come up that aren’t on the map of your life. Don’t deter them, embrace them, because they will help mold you into a person that lives life to the fullest and in the moment.

3. Look for the best in people because they will help bring out the best in you.

While hiking I met an array of interesting, strange, and awesome people ranging from the age of 16 to 78. Every single person I met had the best intentions possible. They had set the goal of hiking either a section of the trail or the entire trail for their own purposes. As they went on their journey they would share their wisdom, anecdotes, and food! But, one man stood out to me. I remember my friend and I finally settled down at a lean-to (a makeshift shelter) on one of easier days. As we started to unpack in came what I would describe as a man child. He was probably 57 to 60. He had short grey hair, a small grey beard, and a ripped up sleeveless tee that looked like it was cut by a three year old. As he comes in, he’s hooting and hollering. He goes over the picnic table, drops his large bags. He places his phone down and gets in a stance that looks like he was prepared to fight off a bear. Then he proceeded to put some crazy music on and started doing crazy lunges and stretches, at the same time getting a cigarette into his mouth. What do you think our first impression was of him? He then proceed to introduce himself as K2, which seemed like a nickname to truly fit him. He was crazy, unpredictable, and filled so many fake stories, but they were still so funny. What took me by surprise was our chats during dinner around the fire. I learned he lost his job and almost all of his money. He had nothing, and resorted to hiking to give him time to learn about how he could turn his life around. He had a goal to hike the entire trail, and he was determined to get it done. He then followed his story about his life with giving me and friend fresh food, and even letting me use his portable charger when he knew he would then not have his phone for three or four days. I know it seems so little to you guys reading, but on the trail listening to music and fresh food such as fruit is always a commodity that can’t be taken for granted. This man, who has nothing but his shoes, his pack, and his positive mindset would give me his food, and share with me his wisdom. He looked for the best in people and because of that he was happy. He didn’t need anything, but a smile and his craziness to be happy. And I knew if he could be happy with so little and live such a fulfilling life I know I could try my best to also.

4. Failure is just a word. Success is defined by your attitude towards something, so keep trying and I guarantee you will feel and be successful.

I hiked for two weeks on the trail. That's it. That's all it took for me to feel successful. Yeah, I planned to hike for a month, and yes, some of my friends still make fun of me to this day, but to me I feel pretty successful. In the moment, I was upset and frustrated, but I couldn't give up. I came home, recollected my thoughts, and re-planned the hike. My friend Brandon and I hiked two solid weeks from Connecticut into New York, and we don't regret a thing. I remember my last night sitting at a table surrounded by a collection of strangers that felt like friends I had knew for a lifetime. As we eat dinner, we went around the circle telling stories of our travels so far and about our lives at home. We laughed and cried, but always keeping a smile on our faces. As the night came to a close I remember plopping into bed. Tired yet rested at the same time. I continued to toss and turn in my bed and then proceeded to get up and just stare at the stars. Minutes turned into hours, and I sat there. As I sat there I felt the same feeling I had on top of my first peak: purpose.