Date: April 22, 2025
Author: Morgan Fields
I’ve been pretending to love hiking for years, and now I’m literally stuck in the woods—both physically and emotionally.
It all started a few years ago when I was dating this guy who was super into “adventure” and “living life to the fullest,” you know, the type who owns a Patagonia jacket and casually carries a carabiner like it’s a fashion accessory. I should’ve seen the red flags, but I just wanted to impress him, so when he asked me if I liked hiking, I blurted out, “Oh my god, I love hiking. Nature is my therapy.” The problem is, I had never hiked a day in my life.
I thought it would be harmless, just some light exaggeration. After all, how hard could a little walk in the woods be? Well, the next thing I knew, we were trekking up actual mountains, carrying way too many granola bars, and listening to him talk about the “spiritual connection” he felt with every tree we passed. Meanwhile, I was sweating, cursing under my breath, and trying to look like I knew what I was doing while not dying from exhaustion. But at the time, I convinced myself I was being “adventurous” for the sake of the relationship. And every time he looked at me with admiration, it made it feel worth it.
The lie snowballed. I kept pretending, going on these exhausting hikes with him, pretending to be one with nature, when in reality, I couldn’t wait to get back to civilization, away from the dirt and mosquitoes. It became this weird ongoing thing, and now—years later—I’ve found myself in the middle of a weekend hiking trip with a group of his friends, pretending to be this hardcore outdoor enthusiast. They’re all talking about planning a week-long backcountry trip, and I’m stuck here, trying to hide my panic while keeping up the facade.
At this point, I’m deep in the woods—literally, yes, but also emotionally. I’ve built a life around a lie, a part of me that’s terrified of admitting the truth. What would happen if I told them that, actually, I don’t care about hiking? That I’m not one with nature, I’m not into the outdoors, and I never was? Would they think I’m fake, shallow, or worst of all—weak? The idea of disappointing everyone, especially him, is too much to handle. So, I just keep walking, breathing through my exhaustion, pretending I’m fine.
The thing is, the longer I keep this up, the harder it becomes to tell anyone the truth. And now I’m so far down this hiking path, I don’t know how to get back.
