From the POD to the Peaks: Why I’m Still Walking

Something is off in this world we’ve built. Everything is a rush: faster, faster, and faster. We’re chasing destinations we never stop to question. Life becomes a checklist. Our hobbies become the shows we watch to distract ourselves before returning to the job we sit through. Sit in the car. Sit at the desk. Sit on the couch. Until, eventually, we lie still in a box in the ground.

Living in a Box

That urgency came crashing back into my life recently, not as a metaphor but as a box, an actual POD, packed with our belongings as we left another home behind.

Image Source: Paige Combs, “Packed Into a POD,” June 2025.

Changes in the household meant we were packing early before our trip ended. It meant hugging our dogs, driving cross-country, and preparing for a move to Hawaii. Yes, Hawaii. A dream, right? But even dreams come with checklists. Even paradise has job markets. I felt it on my skin; this desperate itch to just be there, to skip the hard parts and land in the life I want.

But something inside me asked: and then what? Start the cycle over again? Rush to another job, another routine, another sitting chair?

I could have quit hiking the CDT right then. My partner and I both felt the weight; should we just stop? Pack up life, not just the boxes? But no. I fought. I fought because I chose this trail. I chose this life. Even if all I had left was a single penny, I would still choose it.

Choosing Your Life

Because this trail isn’t about escape. It’s about presence. It’s about waking up to horses, to elk, to snow falling softly on the trees. It’s about remembering what it means to just be. And that’s more than any job, any schedule, or any therapy session rehashing wounds. It’s about living and choosing the world you want to be in.

So I packed, with shaking hands and a heavy heart. And as I did, I saw it clearly: the problem is us. We consume. We move fast. We expect. But we don’t listen. And the Earth we rush across? It doesn’t belong to us. We’re borrowing it. And that knowledge gave me strength, not fear. Knowing I didn’t need to own or control everything gave me permission to just let go.

Moving and Driving

My friend Aquaman is heading home to his partner. We all do what we must. On Saturday, I piled my dogs and plants into the car. Neapolitan flew out with Huck to his family in Pennsylvania and I drove Kona to California to live with my mom. I crashed on a familiar couch in Fair Oaks, surrounded by her same coffee mugs and apartment smells. Reflecting on little pieces of the life I’m constantly lifting and laying down again.

I dropped my plants. Dropped my dog. Dropped every last piece I could let go of. Hoping it would be enough to get me through the next mountain range.

Image Source: Paige Combs, “Kona Being Cozy at My Moms,” June 2025.

Flying Back to Santa Fe, New Mexico

And Tuesday morning, at 4:40 a.m., I stood in line at the airport security checkpoint, silently praying I’d make my flight. My body tired. My heart heavy. I had 25 minutes to get through security. No trekking poles…they were taken by TSA for their potential to be used as a weapon. I laughed and told the agent, “Have a nice hike,” as I bolted to my gate for United Airlines. Terminal A17. And I made it with five minutes to spare.

And now here I am. Sweating in my airplane seat. The buzz of the last week still vibrating in my bones. The high of living in a world that tells us to go, do, prove, chase. And for what? To prove I can do it? I already know I can. I don’t need to prove anything.

I just want to hike.

Today, I meet Neapolitan again in Santa Fe. One last time before we hit the mountains of Colorado. Before the snow. Before the trees embrace us again. Before I go back to the only place that has never asked me to be anything but myself.

Let Go and Slow Down

I would give up every degree, every award, every certification for more of this. For another sunrise. For another night under the stars. For the sound of elk in the distance. For the scent of pine. I would sell it all. If it meant one more second outside.

So if you’re looking for a reason to slow down, to stop running. Let this be it. I’ve already paused my entire life. I’ve already let go of everything that didn’t matter.

And the more the world asks of me, the less I have to give. Not because I’m broken. But because I’ve learned my worth is not transactional. My friendship, my kindness, my purpose. They’re not for sale. They’re for sharing, with those who truly want to receive.

Image Source: Paige Combs, “Waiting at Bus Stop,” June 2025.

People Are Not Transactions

We live in a world of opinions and noise. But maybe knowing less is better. Maybe just being is enough. We’re told to chase health so we can live longer, but for what? To work more?

I’m done treating life like a receipt. And if that makes me a misfit, I’m okay with that. Seattle was never mine. I rolled around in that box, trying to fit. But I love my not-fitting. I’ll keep moving. Keep planting myself somewhere new, somewhere wild.

So congrats, Mom, on your early retirement. You deserve peace. My UTI came at the perfect time. It gave me a reason to pause. A reason to pack. A reason to reassess. And now, I no longer have a reason to return to Seattle. That chapter is closed. And that is worth celebrating.

Happiness is my compass now.

Image Source: Paige Combs, “Bus Ride to Trail,” June 2025.

And if you need a reason to start again, let it be this: You have nothing to prove either.

Learnings / Inspirational Quotes

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” – Mary Oliver

Note: I barely had time for photos on this section, but I hope you can appreciate the updates anyways.