What does Hike Your Own Hike mean?
It started as a piece of advice shared between hikers. Somewhere along the way, I realized it had just as much to say about life off the trail.
HYOH (pronounced “high-oh”) is short for Hike Your Own Hike.
It began as practical advice.
Before it became something I thought about in everyday life, Hike Your Own Hike was simply something hikers said to one another on the Appalachian Trail.
And it was pretty practical advice.
Everyone out there was walking the same trail, but people went about it in completely different ways.
Some hikers were packed up and walking before sunrise. Others took their time in the morning. Some counted every ounce in their backpack. Others carried things the ultralight crowd would never understand.
People walked different distances. Took different breaks. Had good days and terrible ones.
You could learn a lot from the people around you. I certainly did.
But eventually, you had to figure out what worked for you.
Trying to keep somebody else's pace because you thought you should usually didn't end well. Neither did carrying something just because everyone else carried it, or making a decision because it seemed to be what a “real thru-hiker” would do.
So hikers had a way of reminding one another:
Hike your own hike.
It wasn't permission to ignore everyone else.
It was a reminder that nobody else was carrying your pack or walking your miles.
I brought those words home with me.
I thought Hike Your Own Hike was trail advice.
Then I came home.
And I started noticing how often I needed the same reminder in places that had nothing to do with hiking.
Work.
Relationships.
Parenthood.
What success was supposed to look like by a certain age.
The countless little decisions that make up a life.
There are a lot of ways to end up following somebody else's path without consciously choosing it. Sometimes it's comparison. Sometimes it's expectation. Sometimes it's simply doing what you've always done because you've never stopped long enough to ask whether it still fits.
I've done all of those things.
I still do.
That's probably why these four words have stayed with me.
Hike Your Own Hike doesn't give me the answer. It reminds me to make sure I'm asking the question.
Is this right for me?
Not forever. Not for everybody.
Just here. Now.
So, what does it actually mean?
For me, Hike Your Own Hike means paying enough attention to your life to know when you're living it because it feels right—and when you're living it because you're afraid to do something differently.
It means listening to advice without assuming every piece of it belongs to you.
Learning from people you respect without trying to become them.
Recognizing that somebody else's pace isn't evidence that you're behind.
And giving yourself permission to change direction when something that once made sense doesn't anymore.
None of that means doing whatever you want.
Sometimes the path that's right for you is the harder one.
Sometimes hiking your own hike means staying when leaving would be easier. Having the conversation you'd rather avoid. Admitting you were wrong. Starting over. Or continuing down a path nobody else quite understands yet.
There isn't a formula for it.
That's sort of the point.
Am I living this way because it's right for me—or because I've never stopped to consider another way?
I don't think we need to ask ourselves that question every morning.
But every once in a while?
It's worth checking the map.
You still don’t have to walk alone.
There's one part of Hike Your Own Hike that I think is easy to get wrong.
It can sound like: I know what's best for me, so I'll do whatever I want.
That's not how I experienced it on the trail, and it's not what these words mean to me now.
The Appalachian Trail was one of the most communal experiences of my life.
People shared food. Advice. Stories. Rides into town. Places to sleep. Encouragement on bad days. Sometimes complete strangers showed up with exactly what you needed.
That's trail magic.
Hiking your own hike never meant refusing any of it.
You can know that your path is yours and still let other people help you walk it.
You can ask for advice.
You can change your mind.
You can admit that someone else sees something you don't.
You can walk beside someone for a while.
The point isn't to prove you don't need anyone.
It's simply to remember that eventually, you're the one who has to decide where your feet go next.
Where do you begin?
Probably not by changing your whole life.
That's another thing the trail taught me.
Most big journeys are made up of very ordinary steps.
So maybe Hike Your Own Hike begins with noticing.
Where are you going through the motions?
What are you carrying because you've convinced yourself you're supposed to?
Where are you rushing because everyone around you seems to be moving faster?
And where, despite all the noise around you, do you already know you're on the right path?
You don't need to have all of those answers.
I certainly don't.
But I think there's value in asking.
Because nobody else gets to live this life for you.
Other people will walk beside you. Some will help show you the way. A few may change your life completely.
But the miles are still yours.
Take the next one honestly.
Hike your own hike.
— Ryan Benz, Founder of HYOH
I first came across Hike Your Own Hike while thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. The words followed me home, and I've been finding new meaning in them ever since. HYOH grew out of a desire to keep that reminder close—and share it with anyone else who might need it.
Continue the journey.
Trail Notes
Stories and reflections from the trail—and life beyond it.
The First Collection
Simple, everyday reminders to hike your own hike.
