By Zach Davis. The year was 2011. I was both stressed and depressed – largely the result of working on my laptop 70 hours a week. What little free time I had was filled with alcohol and even more screen time in the form of Netflix, YouTube, and the black hole that is social media. One night out at the local watering hole, a friend confided his plan to hike from Georgia to Maine on a path called the Appalachian Trail. This was the first time I had heard these two words used consecutively. Despite not having any outdoor experience or a clear path to escape my current obligations, I committed to join him.

By Judy Gross. The outdoors were my sanctuary – a place I could be alone and explore. I also grew up thinking the outdoors were a women’s sanctuary, that men didn’t go out in nature – I told this to someone recently (a man) and was laughed at – what little does he know – if you look at recent statistics, there are more women than men in many outdoor activities.

by Cindy Ross. Hiking gave me my life. It began with the Appalachian Trail which I hiked as a young woman. Upon reaching Mount Katahdin in Maine, I ran my finger across the routed wooden sign that pointed south and read Springer Mountain, Georgia, 2100 miles. I suddenly realized that I could have a dream and if I worked hard enough and believed in it deeply enough, it would come true. All it took was a strong passion and a lot of perseverance. Hiking gave me many gifts, but the most priceless one was this incredible self-confidence and belief in myself. The trail taught me to not see limits.

By Betsy Kane. In college, I found myself seeking out local trails to find peace and solitude away from campus. Hiking became an escape from reality in my mid-twenties, when I was facing divorce at a young age. When I was almost 30, a car slammed into mine on my way home from work one day, and I ended up needing spinal surgery. During that time of physical weakness, I decided that I should go for a hike on the Appalachian Trail. My mom angrily reacted to this decision by telling me to stick a note in my pocket saying where to send my dead body.

By Amanda Moutsoulas. Before this past summer, I never hiked. In my entire 35 years, I had hiked exactly once, ten years ago, on New Hampshire’s Mt. Major, with my husband. I have spent much of my life battling intermittent depression, and even during the periods when getting out of bed wasn’t a struggle, I wasn’t what anyone would call “active.” That changed when a sudden, devastating loss led me to begin running in January.

by Karen Viola. Walking in wildness with intention is a body-mind workout. It is all types of fun, alone or with friends. For me, it goes beyond recreational privilege. Hiking has grown to be my pilgrimage to presence and possibility. And yes, it is a privilege.

by Ron Tipton, retired President/CEO of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy. My life was transformed by my A.T. journey. I decided my mission was to spend the rest of my career protecting national parks and wilderness areas and other special places in the American landscape, including the Appalachian Trail. When I hiked in 1978, more than 200 miles of the Trail were on public roads and more than 600 miles were in private ownership. Today the entire A.T. is publicly owned, permanently protected and managed by federal and state conservation agencies. I am proud to say I had a role in that historic achievement.

By Cristen Heavens. I remember when I cried because I wasn’t sure I’d ever enjoy hiking again. The hiking backpack I’d bought, clean and new, was still beckoning me from the corner of my room. I kept promising myself that, once I felt well again, I’d take it on a trip. It still pains me that I sold the backpack before that day ever came.

by Mark Larabee. The thing is, while we joke about the exertion and the exhaustion that hiking can bring, there’s no place either of us feels more at peace. We both spend our working days at the keyboard, so time outside is always precious, no matter how arduous. Whenever life’s daily grind becomes overwhelming, a walk in the woods is typically the cure.

by Timmy Le. Living with cerebral palsy, I love to challenge and push myself beyond what I once thought was my outer boundaries. If I can reach the summit of a mountain then all of the challenges that I face in my daily life are easy in comparison. This lesson, just like everything I learned in the lab as a scientist, taught me that the best teacher is nature…

I often feel like I’m moments away from losing my mind. As a child I watched my grandmother lose touch with reality and somehow I knew I would go the same way. In a world that fears what it does not understand, we simply never talk about mental illness for fear of being shunned. I think that most who suffer, still do so silently and alone. Through years of work and education the stigma is starting fade, but we still have work to do. My name is Odie and I’m as crazy as the Loons in the ponds of southern Maine.

by Sugar. I #hikeOctober because I can! In 1997 I was in a bad car accident and was told I would never walk again… it brought on a lot of depression and the fact that I was raised in a very abusive and dysfunctional household made it even worse. Until I hiked the John Muir trail in ’07, I didn’t have much confidence in myself as a person much of it from my upbringing. I found that hiking sometimes alone for many hours not only helped me spiritually but with my self confidence as well. It gave me much time to reflect on my life and where I was going and what I wanted to make of myself.

by Keely Carney. When I was 22, I found myself in rehab. Years of daily blackout drinking and a crippling case of alcoholism will do that. But I wasn’t just in rehab because I struggled with alcoholism. I was in rehab because I struggled with life. Like most people battling mental illness, my story was complex. I’d dealt with depression. I’d dabbled in eating disorders. I’d spent the majority of my life feeling deeply uncomfortable in my skin and in this world. So there I was. While most of my classmates were preparing to graduate college, I was livin’ it up in rehab. At this particular rehab, livin’ it up included going on weekly hikes. Even though it was January. In Connecticut. And snowing. Nothing like forcing someone who’s already uncomfortable all the time to get more uncomfortable… And it was. My first hike was deeply uncomfortable.

by Kerry “Cyndi Loppers” Stewart. I #hikeOctober because fear can be crippling. I was afraid of one thing or another my entire childhood. I was afraid of more than one thing or another most of my adult life. I am scared of crossing the street without a crosswalk, making unprotected left turns while driving, being alone, peanut shells, anything that flies, crowded rooms, physical contact with strangers, heights, clowns, thunder, strange dogs, germs … The list goes on. I am not completely agoraphobic but I choose to rarely leave my home unless it’s to go to work or to the grocery store.

by Leo Walker. Today would be my mom’s birthday. As kids growing up, it was obvious to us that there was something different about her. I tell people she had schizophrenia although strictly speaking I never heard that diagnosis said. In fact, I never heard any specific explanation for her unusual and at times frightening behavior. My dad was a very private person and felt things like that were best not talked about, even within the family.